“Why, who hunts you?” cried the General angrily; “what nonsense you talk, my good girl.”
“How dare you say I talk nonsense,” cried Kesta, “when it is as much as I can do to get through your town for the men who want me to stop and marry them!”
“And why do they want you to marry them?” asked the General.
“Because I’m so pretty, of course,” said Kesta promptly, and she took off her hat and looked up at the General.
“I don’t think you are so pretty,” he said.
“But I am,” cried Kesta angrily, “and it’s only stupid people who don’t see it. Go and ask the men in the town. First it was a man at the farm, then the miller, then the duke’s bailiff, then the banker—they all wanted to marry me, and I am much too good for any of them!”
“If this is all true,” said the General, “of course you must be exceedingly pretty, and as you say you are much too good for them, perhaps you might suit me. How would you like that?”
“That might be better,” said Kesta, “and as you wish it very much I will agree, and I hope you will try to make me a good husband; but I am obliged to go a little further on important business, and I will meet you here on my way back,” and on she went laughing to herself. “Indeed I am fortunate,” thought she; “and as they all seem willing to marry me why should I not try higher, and see what the Duke himself would say? There is nothing like being practical, and it would be downright silly not to speak to the Duke now I am here.” By this time she had come to the Duke’s palace, so she stopped a servant who was coming out and asked if he were at home, for she said, “I have special business with him.” “He is sitting by the stream in the garden, where he sits fishing all day, and you can go and speak to him if you choose,” said the servant. So Kesta went through the courtyard into the garden, and straight on to where the Duke sat beside the stream with a long rod in his hand fishing. He was dressed all in green, and seemed to be half asleep, and Kesta came quite near him before he saw her. Then she said, “Ah, pity me, your Grace, and listen to my sad story.”
“Good gracious! who are you?—don’t you know I am the Duke?” said he.
“And that is why I have come to you to ask you to protect me from all the men who pursue me,” said Kesta.
“Why do they pursue you?” asked the Duke.
“Because I am so pretty,” replied Kesta. “They all want to marry me: first the man at the farm, then the miller I met on the road, then your bailiff, then the banker, then the General of your army, and he would only let me go when I promised to go back to him.”
“The General!” said the Duke. “Is this true? does he really want to marry you?”
“Of course he does,” said Kesta; “if you doubt what I say you had better send to the town and ask.”
“Indeed,” said the Duke, “I should not have thought you so very pretty, but if what you say is true you must be. I’m not sure if it would not suit me to marry you myself; but mind, I shall be exceedingly angry if I find you have not told me the truth, and they did not want to marry you. Of course you would be delighted to marry me and be the Duchess?”
“Aye, that I should,” cried Kesta, and she grinned with delight.
Then the Duke took from his side a horn and blew it loudly. There came from the palace four pages, dressed in blue and gold, who stood in a row to receive his orders. “See,” cried the Duke, “I am going to marry this lady, who everybody thinks is very beautiful, so see that you treat her with respect; and go to the palace and bid them to prepare a feast and fitting clothes for the bride, and tell the chaplain to be ready, for I mean to marry her at once.”
“And now,” he said to Kesta, when all his pages had returned to the palace, “come and sit by me and watch me fish till all is ready.”
So Kesta sat by his side and watched him fishing with his long rod, but after a time she grew tired of being silent, and said, “What have you caught?”
“Nothing yet,” said the Duke.
“Then why do you go on?” asked she.
“Because I’m sure to catch something soon, and it’s amusing. Wouldn’t you like to hold the rod a little?”
“Yes, very much,” answered Kesta, who was afraid of offending him. So she put out her hand to take the rod, and as she did so the basket fell from her arm and the cheeses rolled out.
“What are those round balls?” asked the Duke, “and what an odd smell they have.”
“They are my cheeses,” cried Kesta; “I made them yesterday, and was taking them to sell, when—”
“Good gracious, you made them!” cried the Duke with a scream. “Then you must be a common dairymaid, and your hands are quite rough.
