Thus she spoke, and towards the door she hastily turn'd her,Holding under her arm the bundle she brought when arriving.But the mother seized by both of her arms the fair maiden,Clasping her round the body, and cried with surprise and amazement"Say, what signifies this? These fruitless tears, what denote they?No, I'll not leave you alone! You're surely my dear son's betroth'd one!"But the father stood still, and show'd a great deal of reluctance,Stared at the weeping girl, and peevishly spoke then as follows"This, then, is all the indulgence my friends are willing to give me,That at the close of the day the most unpleasant thing happens!For there is nothing I hate so much as the tears of a woman,And their passionate cries, set up with such heat and excitement,Which a little plain sense would show to be utterly needless.Truly, I find the sight of these whimsical doings a nuisance.Matters must shift for themselves; as for me, I think it is bed-time."So he quickly turn'd round, and hasten'd to go to the chamberWhere the marriage-bed stood, in which he slept for the most part.But his son held him back, and spoke in words of entreaty"Father, don't go in a hurry, and be not amniote with the maiden!I alone have to bear the blame of all this confusion,Which our friend has increased by his unexpected dissembling.Speak then, honour'd Sir! for to you the affair I confided;Heap not up pain and annoyance, but rather complete the whole matter;For I surely in future should not respect you so highly,If you play practical jokes, instead of displaying true wisdom."
Let us haste, our footsteps blending