"This is my wife: she's been nurse to the crown prince, and now, thank
God, we're well to do."

He had become boastful, but Walpurga remained silent in the presence of
others. It was only when they were in the wagon that she became
talkative. She asked many questions and Hansei had much to relate, but
she heard little of what was said. She was forever thinking of her
child, which seemed to be dancing on the mountain peaks; just like the
moon which stood in the sky in broad daylight, it ever seemed to move
along with them.

"And has it blue eyes?" asked she suddenly, while Hansei was giving her
a circumstantial account of the cow that was again giving milk.

"I don't know what color the calf's eyes are," said Hansei, laughing.

"Oh, don't think hard of me. I can't think of anything but our child.
If we traveled as fast as my thoughts, we'd be home in a twinkling, as
tailor Schneck says."

She smiled and checked herself and, soon after, continued: "Oh, how
could I ever have stayed away from you so long? It isn't true. I've
always been at home and now I'm coming. I'm coming to you, my child.
Didn't you hear some one cry, Hansei?" said she, looking round. "I hear
some one crying; it sounds like a child."

"Do be quiet. You're enough to frighten one out of his senses."

Walpurga would often look back, for it seemed to her as if she could
hear a child crying.

In the city a child _was_ crying, and those who were about it could not
quiet it. Their diamonds, their gold, their soldiers, were all of no
avail. Behind her and before her, Walpurga heard nothing but the crying
of a child.

"Why do you shut your eyes?" asked Hansei.

"Oh," replied Walpurga, "I feel like the father of Wastl the weaver.
When he was cured of his blindness, he used to say that the trees came
toward him, and that everything blinded him. I too, feel as if I had
seen nothing during this whole time. Look! there's the first man with a
green hat, and he has his game-bag on his back; and the trees have kept
on growing of themselves, while I was away. I don't know how I'll go
through it all and not die, for I shouldn't like to die just now. I
want to walk about with my child. Oh dear, good Hansei, don't give her
a stepmother."

"Wife, wife," said Hansei, quieting her, "you're making fools of both
of us. I'm quite sure that comes of your not having eaten a thing all
day."

He insisted upon stopping at the next inn, where Walpurga was obliged
to dr