“Beret, I didn’t know it myself.  I never saw him till yesterday.  And as soon as I saw him I loved him, and let him see it, and that is what is making me so unhappy, so unhappy that I feel as if I must die of it!”

“You never saw him before yesterday?” screamed Beret, so astonished that she could hardly believe it.

“Never in my life!” replied Mildrid.  “Isn’t it shameful, Beret?”

But Beret threw her arms round her sister’s neck, and kissed her over and over again.

“Dear, sweet Mildrid, I’m so glad!” she whispered, now radiant with joy.  “I’m so glad, so glad!” and she kissed her once more.  “And you’ll see how I can keep a secret, Mildrid!” She hugged her to her breast, but sat up again, and said sorrowfully:  “And you thought I couldn’t do it; O Mildrid! not even when it was about you!”

And now it was Beret’s turn to cry.  “Why have you put me away?  Why have you taken Inga instead of me?  You’ve made me so dreadfully unhappy, Mildrid!  O Mildrid, you don’t know how I love you!” and she clung to her.  Then Mildrid kissed her, and told her that she had done it without thinking what she was doing, but that now she would never again put her aside, and would tell her everything, because she was so good and true and faithful.

The sisters lay for a little with their arms round each other; then Beret sat up again; she wanted to look into her sister’s face in the light of the summer night, that was gradually taking a tinge of red from the coming dawn.  Then she burst out with:  “Mildrid, how handsome he is!  How did he come?  How did you see him first?  What did he say?  Do tell me about it!”

And Mildrid now poured out to her sister all that a few hours ago it had seemed to her she could never tell to anybody.  She was sometimes interrupted by Beret’s throwing her arms round her and hugging her, but she went on again with all the more pleasure.  It seemed to her like a strange legend of the woods.  They laughed and they cried.  Sleep had gone from them both.  The sun found them still entranced by this wonderful tale—­Mildrid lying down or resting on one elbow and talking, Beret kneeling beside her, her mouth half open, her eyes sparkling, from time to time giving a little cry of delight.

They got up together and did their work together, and when they had finished, and for the sake of appearances taken a little breakfast, they prepared for the meeting with Hans.  He was sure to come soon!  They dressed themselves out in their best, and went up to Mildrid’s place on the hill.  Beret showed where she had lain hidden yesterday.  The dog had found her out, she said, and paid her several visits.  The weather was fine to-day too, though there were some clouds in the sky.  The girls found plenty to say to each other, till it was about the time when Hans might be expected.  Beret ran once or twice up to the top of the hill, to see if he were in sight, but there was no sign of him.  Then they began to grow impatient, and at last Mildrid got so excited that Beret was frightened.  She tried to soothe her by reminding her that Hans was not his own master; that he had left the German gentleman two whole days to fish and shoot alone, and prepare food for himself; and that he would hardly dare to leave him a third.  And Mildrid acknowledged that this might be so.