can bring you
all these things you have dreamed about."

"But what would I do with carriages and jewels? I am only a goose-girl,
and I am to be married."

"To that young rascal of a vintner?"

"He is not a rascal!" loyally.

"It will take but little to make him one," with an odd grimness.

Gretchen did not understand.

He resumed, "how would you like a little palace, with servants at your
beck and call, with carriages to ride in, with silks and velvets to
wear, and jewels to adorn your hair? How would you like these things?
Eh? Never again to worry about your hands, never again to know the
weariness of toil, to be mistress of swans instead of geese?"

A shadow fell upon Gretchen's face; the eagerness died out of her eyes.

"I do not understand you, Herr. By what right should I possess these
things?"

"By the supreme right of beauty, beauty alone."

"Would it be--honest?"

For the first time he lowered his eyes. The clear crystal spirit in hers
embarrassed him.

"Come, let us go for your clock," he said, rising. "I am an old fool. I
forgot that one talks like this only to opera-dancers."

Then Gretchen understood. "I am all alone," she said; "I have had to
fight my battles with these two hands."

"I am a black devil, _Kindchen_. Forget what I have said. You are worthy
the brightest crown in Europe; but you wear a better one than
that--goodness. If any one should ever make you unhappy, come to me. I
will be your godfather. Will you forgive an old man who ought to have
known better?"

There was such unmistakable honesty in his face and eyes that she did
not hesitate, but placed her hand in his.

"Why did you ask all those questions?" she inquired.

"Perhaps it was only to test your strength. You are a brave and honest
girl."

"And if trouble came," now smiling, "where should I find you?"

"I shall be near when it comes. Good fairies are always close at hand."
He swept his hat from his head; ease and grace were in the movement; no
irony, nothing but respect. "And do you love this vintner?"

"With all my heart."

"And he loves you?"

"Yes. His lips might lie, but not his eyes and the touch of his hand."

"So much the worse!" said the mountaineer inaudibly.

Gretchen had gone home with her clock; but still Herr Ludwig, as the
mountaineer called himself, tarried in the dim and dusty shop. Clocks,
old and new, broken and whole, clocks from the four ends of the world;
and watches, thick and clumsy