Hans met her at a festival given in commemoration of the demise of the
burgomaster's second wife--I beg pardon, I mean in celebration of his
union with his third bride. From that day Hans was a lost barber.
Sleeping, waking, shaving, curling, weaving, or powdering, he thought of
nothing but Agnes. His love-dreams placed him in all kinds of awkward
predicaments. And Agnes--what thought she of the unhappy barber? Nothing,
except that he was a presumptuous puppy, and wore very unfashionable
garments. Hans received an intimation of this latter opinion; and, after
sundry quailings and misgivings, he resolved to dispose of his remaining
stock in trade, and, for once, dress like a gentleman. The measure had
been taken by the tailor, the garments had been basted and tried on, and
Hans was standing at his door in a state of feverish excitement, awaiting
their arrival in a completed condition (as there was to be _fête_ on the
morrow, at which Agnes was to be present), when a stranger requested to be
shaved. Hans wished him at the ---- next barber's; but there was something
so unpleasantly positive in the visitor's appearance, that he had not the
power to object, so politely bowed him into the shop. The stranger removed
his cap, and discovered two very ugly protuberances, one on each side of
his head, and of most unphrenological appearance. Hans commenced
operations--the lather dried as fast as he laid it on, and the razor
emitted small sparks as it encountered the bristles on the stranger's
chin, Hans felt particularly uncomfortable, and not a word had hitherto
passed on either side, when the stranger broke the ice by asking, rather
abruptly, "Have you any schnapps in the house?" Hans jumped like a parched
pea. Without waiting for a reply, the stranger rose and opened the
cupboard. "I never take anything stronger than water," said Hans, in
reply, to the "pshaw!" which broke from the stranger's lips as he smelt at
the contents of a little brown pitcher. "More fool you," replied his
customer. "Here taste that--some of the richest grape-blood of Rheingau;"
and he handed Hans a small flask, which the sober barber respectfully