"I don't plead for myself," continued Waerli. "If you don't love me, that
is the end of the matter. But if you do love me, Mariechen, and will
marry me, you won't be unhappy. Now I have said all."
Marie put down the water-bottles, and turned to Waerli.
"You have been a long time in telling me," she said, pouting. "Why
didn't you tell me three months ago? It's too late now."
"Oh. Mariechen!" said the little postman, seizing her hand and covering
it with kisses; "you love some one else-you are already betrothed? And
now it's too late, and you love some one else!"
"I never said I loved some one else," Marie replied; "I only said it was
too late. Why, it must be nearly five o'clock, and my lamps are not yet
ready. I haven't a moment to spare. Dear me, and there is no oil in the
can; no, not one little drop!
"The devil take the oil!" exclaimed Waerli, snatching the can out of her
hands. "What do I want to know about the oil in the can? I want to know
about the love in your heart. Oh, Mariechen, don't keep me waiting like
this! Just tell me if you love me, and make me the merriest soul in all
Switzerland."
"Must I tell the truth," she said, in a most melancholy tone of voice;
"the truth and nothing else? Well, Waerli, if you must know .
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