The vintner snatched off his hat apologetically and swung it round on the tips of his fingers.
"Is this the way you work?"
"I have picked nine baskets."
"You should have picked twelve."
It interested her highness to note that this handsome young fellow was not afraid of the head vintner. So this was Gretchen's lover? He was really handsome; there was nothing coarse about his features or figure. And presently she realized that he was returning her scrutiny with interest. He had never seen her highness at close range before, and he now saw that Gretchen was more beautiful only because he saw her through the eyes of a lover.
The pause was broken by Gretchen.
"Pardon, Highness!"
"For what, Gretchen?"
"For not having seen your approach."
"That was my fault, not yours. When is the wedding?"
"After the vintage, Highness."
Her highness then spoke to the bridegroom-elect. "You will be good to her?"
"Who could help it, your Highness?"
The pronoun struck her oddly, for peasants as a usual thing never used it in addressing the nobility.
"Well, on the day of the wedding I will stand sponsor to you both. And good luck go with you. Come, Hoffman; my horse will be restive and my men impatient."
She passed down the aisle, and the head vintner followed, wagging his head. He was not at all satisfied with that tableau. He employed men to work; he wanted no love-affairs inside his vineyards. As for her highness, she had come for the sole purpose of seeing Gretchen's lover; and it occurred to her that the really desirable men were generally unencumbered by titles.
"He will discharge me," said the young vintner gloomily.
"He will not dare," returned Gretchen. "We have done nothing wrong. Her highness will stand by us. It must be five o'clock," looking at the sun.
"In that case, no more work for the day."
He swung the basket to his shoulder, and the sun, flashing upon its contents, turned the bloomy globes into dull rubies. He presented his card at the office and was duly credited with three crowns, which, according to Gretchen, was a fine day's work. Hoffman said nothing about dismissal.
"Come day after to-morrow; to-morrow is a feast-day. You are always having feast-days when work begins. All summer long you loaf about, but the minute you start to work you must find excuses to lay off. Clear out, both of you!"
"Work at last," said Dietrich, as he and Gretchen started for the city. "If I can get a position in the brewery for the winter I shall be rich."
"Oh, the beautiful world!"