ROMEO AND JULIET OF THE VILLAGE (continued 2)

"Look at me well," he then continued. "Your two fathers know all about me, and everybody in the village can identify me by my nose. Years ago they were spreading the rumor that a good piece of money was awaiting the heir to these fields here. I have called at court twenty times. But since I had no baptismal certificate and since my friends, the vagrants, who witnessed my birth, have no voice that the law will recognize, the time set has elapsed, and they have cheated me out of the little sum, large enough all the same to permit my emigrating to a better country. I have implored your fathers at that time, again and again, to testify for me to the effect that they at least believed me, according to their conscience, to be the rightful heir. But they drove me from their farms, and now, ha! ha! ha! they themselves have gone to the devil. Well and good, that is the way things turn out in this world, and I don't care a rap. And now I will just the same fiddle if you want to dance."

With that he was down again on the ground beside them, at a mighty bound, and seeing they did not want to dance he quickly disappeared in the direction of the village; there the crop was to be brought in towards nightfall, and there would be gay doings.

When he was gone the young couple sat down, discouraged and out of spirits, among the wilderness of stone. They let their hands drop and hung their poor heads too. For the sudden appearance of the vagrant fiddler had wiped out the happy memories of their childhood, and their joyous mood in which they, like they used in their younger days, had wandered about in the green and among the corn, had gone with him. They sat once more on the hard soil of their misery, and the happy gleam of childhood had vanished, and their minds were oppressed and darkened.

But all at once Vreni remembered the fiddler's nose, and his whole odd figure, and she burst out laughing loud and merry. She exclaimed: "The poor fellow surely looks too queer. What a nose he had!" And with that a charmingly careless merriment flashed out of her brown eyes, just as though she had only been waiting for the fiddler's nose to chase away all the sad clouds from her mind. Sali, too, regarded the girl, and noticed this sunny gaiety. But by that time Vreni had already forgotten the immediate cause of her gleefulness, and now she laughed on her own account into Sali's face. Sali, dazed and astonished, involuntarily gazed at the girl with laughing mouth, like a hungry man who suddenly is offered sweetened wheat bread, and he said: "Heavens, Vreni, how pretty you are!"

And Vreni, for sole answer, laughed but the more, and out of the mere enjoyment of her sweet temper she gurgled a few melodious notes that sounded to the boy like the warblings of a nightingale.

"Oh, you little witch," he exclaimed enraptured, "where have you learned such tricks? What sorcery are you applying to me?"

"Sorcery?" she murmured astonished, in a voice of sweet enchantment, and she seized Sali's hand anew. "There's no sorcery about this. How gladly I should have laughed now and then, with reason or without. Now and then, indeed, all by myself, I have laughed a bit, because I couldn't help it, but my heart was not in it. But now it's different. Now I should like to laugh all the time, holding your hand and feeling happy. I should like to hold your hand forever, and look into your eyes. Do you too love me a little bit?"

"Ah, Vreni," he answered, and looked full and affectionately into her eyes, "I never cared for any girl before. And I have never until now taken a good look at another girl. It always seemed to me as though some time or other I should have to love you, and without knowing it, I think, you have always been in my thoughts."

"And so it was in my case," said Vreni, "only more so. For you never would look at me and did not know what had become of me and what I had grown into. But as for me, I have from time to time, secretly, of course, and from afar, cast a glance at you, and knew well enough what you were like. Do you still remember how often as children we used to come here? You know in the little baby cart? What small folk we were those days, and how long, long ago that all is! One would think we were old, real old now. Eh?"

Sali became thoughtful.

"How old are you, Vreni?" he asked. "I should think you must be about seventeen?"

"I am seventeen and a half," answered she. "And you?"

"Guess!"

"Oh, I know, you are going on twenty."

"How do you know?" he asked.

"I won't tell you," she laughed.

"Won't tell me?"

"No, no," and she giggled merrily.

"But I want to know."

"Will you compel me?"

"We'll see about that."

These silly remarks Sali made because he wanted to keep his hands busy and to have a pretext for the awkward caresses he attempted and which his love for the beautiful girl hungered for. But she continued the childish dialogue willingly enough for some time longer, showing plenty of patience the while, feeling instinctively her lover's mood. And the simple sallies on both sides seemed to them the height of wisdom, so soft and sweet and full of their mutual feelings they were. At last, however, Sali waxed bold and aggressive, and seized Vreni and pressed her down into the scarlet bed of poppies by main strength. There she lay panting, blinking at the sun with eyes half-closed. Her softly rounded cheeks glowed like ripe apples and her mouth was breathing hard so that the snow-white rows of teeth became visible. Daintily as if penciled her eyebrows were defined above those flashing eyes, and her young bosom rose and fell under the working four hands which mutually caressed and fought each other. Sali was beyond himself with delight, seeing this wonderful young creature before him, knowing her to be his own, and he deemed himself wealthier than a monarch.

"I see you still have all your teeth," he said. "Do you recall how often we tried to count them? Do you now know how to count?"

"Oh, you silly," smilingly rejoined Vreni, "these are not the same. Those I lost long ago."

So Sali in the simplicity of his soul wanted to renew the game, and prepared to count them over once more. But Vreni abruptly rose and closed her mouth. Then she began to form a wreath of poppies and to place it on her head. The wreath was broad and long, and on the brow of the nut-brown maid it was an ornament so bewitching as to lend her an enchanting air. Sali held in his arms what rich people would have dearly paid for if merely they had had it painted on their walls.

But at last she sprang up. "Goodness, how hot it is here! Here we remain like ninnies and allow ourselves to be roasted alive. Come, dear, and let us sit among the corn!"

And they got up and looked for a suitable hiding-place among the tall wheat. When they had found it, they slipped into the furrows of the field so that nobody would have discovered them without regular search, leaving no trace behind, and they built for themselves a narrow nest among the golden ears that topped their heads when they were seated, so that they only saw the deep azure of the sky above and nothing else in the world. They clung to each other tightly, and showered kisses on cheeks and hair and mouth, until at last they desisted from sheer exhaustion, or whatever one wishes to call it when the caresses of two lovers for one or two minutes cease and thus, right in the ecstasy of the blossom tide of life, there is the hint of the perishableness of everything mundane. They heard the larks singing high overhead, and sought them with their sharp young eyes, and when they thought they saw one flashing along in the sunlight like shooting stars along the firmament, they kissed again, in token of reward, and tried to cheat and to overreach each other at this game just as much as they could.

"Do you see, there is one flitting now," whispered Sali, and Vreni replied just as low: "I can hear it, but I do not see it."

"Oh, but watch now," breathed Sali, "right there, where the small white cloud is floating, a hand's breadth to the right."

And then both stared with all their might, and meanwhile opened their lips, thirsty and hungry for more nourishment, like young birds in their nest, in order to fasten these same lips upon the other if perchance they both felt convinced of the existence of that lark.

But now Vreni made a stop, in order to say, very seriously and importantly: "Let us not forget; this, then, is agreed, that each of us loves the other. Now, I wish to know, what do you have to say about your sweetheart?"

"This," said Sali, as though in a dream, "that it is a thing of beauty, with two brown eyes, a scarlet mouth, and with two swift feet. But how it really is thinking and believing I have no more idea than the Pope in Rome. And what can you tell me about your lover? What is he like?"

"That he has two blue eyes, a bold mouth and two stout arms which he is swift to use. But what his thoughts are I know no more than the Turkish sultan."

"True," said Sali, "it is singular, but we really do not know what either is thinking. We are less acquainted than if we had never seen each other before. So strange towards each other the long time between has made us. What really has happened during the long interval since we grew up in your dear little head, Vreni?"

"Not much," whispered Vreni, "a thousand foolish things, but my life has been so hard that none of them could stay there long."

"You poor little dear," said Sali in a very low voice, "but nevertheless, Vreni, I believe you are a sly little thing, are you not?"

"That you may learn, by and by, if you really are fond of me, as you say," the young girl murmured.

"You mean when you are my wife," whispered Sali.

At these last words Vreni trembled slightly, and pressed herself more tightly into his arms, kissing him anew long and tenderly. Tears gathered in her eyes, and both of them all at once became sad, since their future, so devoid of hope, came into their minds, and the enmity of their fathers.

Vreni now sighed deeply and murmured: "Come, Sali, I must be going now."

And both rose and left the cornfield hand in hand, but at the same instant they spied Vreni's father. With the idle curiosity of the person without useful employment he had been speculating, from the moment he had met Sali hours before, what the young man might be wanting all alone in the village. Remembering the occurrence of the previous day, he finally, strolling slowly towards the town, had hit upon the right cause, merely as the result of venom and suspicion. And no sooner had his suspicion taken on a definite shape, when he, in the middle of a Seldwyla street, turned back and reached the village. There he had vainly searched for Vreni everywhere, at home and in the meadow and all around in the hedges. With increasing restlessness he had now sought her right near by in the cornfield, and when picking up there Vreni's small vegetable basket, he had felt sure of being on the right track, spying about, when suddenly he perceived the two children issuing from the corn itself.

They stood there as if turned to stone. Marti himself also for a moment did not move, and stared at them with evil looks, pale as lead. But then he started to curse them like a fiend, and used the vilest language toward the young man. He made a vicious grab at him, attempting to throttle him. Sali instantly wrested himself loose, and sprang back a few paces, so as to be out of the reach of the old man, who acted like one demented. But when he perceived that Marti instead of himself now took hold of the trembling girl, dealing her a violent blow in the face, then seizing her by the back of her hair, trying to drag her along and mistreat her further, he stepped up once more. Without reflecting at all he picked up a rock and struck the old man with it against the side of the head, half in fear of what the maniac meant to do to Vreni, and half in self-defense. Marti after the blow stumbled a step or two, and then fell in a heap on a pile of stones, pulling his daughter down with him in so doing. Sali freed her hair from the rough grasp of the unconscious man, and helped the girl to her feet. But then he stood lifeless, not knowing what to say or do.

The girl seeing her father lying prone on the ground like dead, put her hands to her face, shuddered and whispered: "Have you killed him?"

Sali silently nodded his head, and Vreni shrieked: "Oh, God, oh, God! It is my father! The poor man!"

And quite out of her senses she knelt down alongside of him, lifted up his head and began to examine his hurt. But there was no flow of blood, nor any other trace of injury. She let the limp body drop to the ground again. Sali put himself on the other side of the unconscious old man, and both of them stared helplessly at the pale and motionless face of Marti. They were silent and their hands dropped.

At last Sali remarked: "Perhaps he is not dead at all. I don't think he is dead. That blow can never have killed him."

Vreni tore a leaf off one of the wild roses near her, and held it before the mouth of her father. The leaf fluttered a little.

"He is still alive," she cried, "Run to the village, Sali, and get assistance."

When Sali sprang up and was about to run off, she stretched out her hand towards him, and cried: "Don't come back with the others and say nothing as to how he came by his injury. I shall keep silent and betray nothing."

In saying which the poor girl showed him a face streaming with tears of distress, and she looked at her lover as though parting from him forever.

"Come and kiss me once more," she murmured. "But no, get along with you. Everything is over between us. We can never belong to each other." And she gave him a gentle push, and he ran with a heavy heart down the path to the village.

On his way he met a small boy, one he did not know, and him he bade to get some people and described in detail where and what assistance was required. Then he drifted off in despair, wandering at random all night about the woods near the village.

In the early morning he cautiously crept forth, in order to spy out how things had gone during the night. From several persons early astir he heard the news. Marti was alive, but out of his senses, and nobody, it seemed, knew what really had happened to him. And only after learning this his mind was so far at ease that he found the way back to town and to his father's tavern, where he buried himself in the family misery.

Vreni had kept her word. Nothing could be learned of her but that she had found her father in this condition, and as he on the next day became again quite active, breathed normally and began to move about, although still without his full senses, and since, besides, there was no one to frame a complaint, it was assumed that he had met with some accident while under the influence of drink, probably had had a bad fall on the stones, and matters were left as they were.

Vreni nursed him very carefully, never left his side, except to get medicine and remedies from the shop of the village doctor, and also to pick in the vegetable patch something wherewith to cook him and herself a simple stew or soup. Those days she lived almost on air, although she had to be about and busy day and night and nobody came to help her. Thus nearly six weeks elapsed until the old man recovered sufficiently to take care of himself, though long before that he had been sitting up in bed and had babbled about one thing or another. But he had not recovered his mind, and the things he was now saying and doing seemed to show plainly that he had become weak-minded, and this in the strangest manner. He could recall what had happened but darkly, and to him it seemed something very enjoyable and laughable. Something, too, which did not touch him in any way, and he laughed and laughed all day long, and was in the best of humor, very different from what he had been before his accident. While still abed he had a hundred foolish, senseless ideas, cut capers and made faces, pulled his black peaked woollen cap over his ears, down to his nose and his mouth, and then he would mumble something which seemed to amuse him highly. Vreni, pale and sorrowful, listened patiently to all his stories, shedding tears about his idiotic behavior, which grieved her even more than his former malicious and wicked tricks had. But it would nevertheless happen now and then, that the old man would perform some particularly ludicrous antics, and then Vreni, tortured as she was by all these scenes, would be unable to help bursting into laughter, as her joyous disposition, suppressed by all these sad events, would sometimes rend the bounds which confined her, just like a bow too tightly strung that would break.

But as soon as the old man could once more get out of bed, there was nothing more to be done. All day long he did nothing but silly things, was grinning, smirking and laughing to himself constantly, turned everything in the house topsy-turvy, sat down in the sunshine and blared at the world, put out his tongue at everybody that passed, and made long monologues while standing in the midst of the bean field.

Simultaneous with all this there came also the end of his ownership in the farm. Everything upon it had, of course, gone to wrack and ruin, and disorder reigned supreme. Not only his house, but also the last bit of land left him, pledged in court some time before, were now seized and the day of forced sale was named. For the peasant who had claims to these pieces of property, very naturally made use of the opportunities now afforded him by the illness and the failing powers of Marti to bring about a quick decision. These last proceedings in court used up the bit of cash still left to Marti, and all this was done while he in his weakness of mind had not even a notion what it was all about.

The forced sale took place, and at its close, Marti being penniless and bereft of sense, by the action of the village council, it was decided to make him an inmate of the community asylum that had been founded many years before for the precise benefit of just such poor devils as himself. This asylum was located in the cantonal capital. Before he started for his destination he was well fed for a day or two, to the eminent satisfaction of the idiot, who had developed an enormous appetite of late, and then was put on a cart drawn by a phlegmatic ox and driven by a poor peasant who besides attending to this community errand wanted to sell also a sack of potatoes at the town. Vreni sat down on the same vehicle alongside of her father in order to accompany him on this day of his being buried alive, so to speak.

It was a sad and bitter drive, but Vreni watched lovingly over her father, and let him want for nothing; neither did she grow impatient when passers-by, attracted by the ridiculous behavior of the old man, would follow the cart and make all sorts of audible remarks on its inmates. Finally they did reach the asylum, a complex of buildings connected by courts and corridors, and where a big garden was seen alive with similarly unfortunate beings as Marti himself, all dressed in a sort of uniform consisting of white coarse linen blouses and vests, with stiff caps of leather on their foolish old heads. Marti, too, was put into such a uniform, even before Vreni's departure, and her father evinced a childish joy at his new clothes, dancing about in them and singing snatches of wicked drinking songs.

"God be with you, my lords and honored fellow-inmates," he harangued a knot of them, "you surely have a palace-like home here. Go away, Vreni, and tell mother that I won't come home any more. I like it here splendidly. Goodness me, what a palace! There runs a spider across the road, and I have heard him barking! Oh, maiden mine, oh, maiden mine, don't kiss the old, kiss but the young! All the waters in the world are running into the Rhine! She with the darkest eye, she is not mine. Already going, little Vreni? Why, thou lookest as though death were in thy pot. And yet things are looking up with me. I am doing fine. Am getting wealthy in my old days. The she-fox cries with him: Halloo! Halloo! Her heart pains her. Why--oh, why? Halloo! Halloo!"

An official of the institution bade him hold his infernal noise, and then he led him away to do some easy work. Vreni took her leave sadly and then began to look up her ox cart with the peasant. When she had found it she climbed in and sat down and ate a slice of bread she had brought with her. Then she lay down and fell asleep, and a couple of hours later the peasant came and woke her, and then they drove home to the village. They arrived there in the middle of the night. Vreni went to her father's house, the one where she had been born and had spent all her days. For the first time she was all alone in it. Two days' grace she had to get out and find some other shelter. She made a fire and prepared a cup of coffee for herself, using the last remnants she still had. Then she sat down on the edge of the hearth, and wept bitterly. She was longing with all her soul to see and talk once more to Sali, and she was thinking and thinking of him. But mingling with these desires of hers were her anxieties and her fears of the future. Thus sat the poor thing, holding her head in her hand, when somebody entered at the door.

"Sali!" cried Vreni, when she looked up and saw the face dearest to her in the world. And she fell on his neck, but then they both looked at one another, and they shouted: "How poorly you look!" For Sali was as pale and sorrowful as the girl herself. Forgetting everything she drew him to her on the hearth, and questioned him: "Have you been ill, or have you also fared badly?"

"No, not ill," said Sali, "but longing for you. At home things are going fine. My father now has rare guests, and as I believe, he has become a receiver of stolen goods. And that is why there are big doings at our place, both day and night, until, I suppose, there will come a bad end to it all. Mother is helping along, eager to have guests of any kind at all, guests that fetch money into the house, and she tries to bring some order out of all this disorder, and also to make it profitable. I am not questioned about the matter at all, neither do I care. For I have only been thinking of you all along. Since all sorts of vagrants come and go in our place, we have heard of everything concerning you, and my father is beside himself with joy, and that your father has been taken to-day to the asylum has delighted him immensely. Since he has now left you I have come, thinking you might be lonesome, and maybe in trouble."

Then Vreni told him all her sorrows in detail, but she did this with such fluency and described the intimate details in such an almost happy tone of voice as if what she was saying did not disturb her in the least. All this because the presence of her lover and his solicitude about her really rendered her happy and minimized her anxieties. She had Sali at her side. And what more did she want? Soon she had a vessel with the steaming coffee which she forced Sali to share with her.

"Day after to-morrow, then, you must leave here?" said Sali. "What is to become of you now?"

"I don't know," answered Vreni. "I suppose I shall have to seek some service and go away from here, somewhere in the wide world. But I know I won't be able to endure that without you, Sali, and yet we cannot come together. If there were no other reason it would not do because you hurt my father and made him lose his mind. That would always be a bad foundation for our wedded state, would it not? And neither of us would ever be able to forget that, never!"

Sali sighed deeply, and rejoined: "I myself wanted a hundred times to become a soldier or else go far away and hire out on a farm, but I cannot do it, I cannot leave you here, and after we are separated it will kill me, I feel sure of it, for longing for you will not let me rest day or night. I really believe, Vreni, that all this misery makes my love for you only the stronger and the more painful, so that it becomes a matter of life or death. Never did I dream that this should ever be my end."

But Vreni, while he was thus pouring out his burdened mind, gazed at him smilingly and with a face that shone with joy. They were leaning against the chimney corner, and silently they felt to the full the intense ecstasy of communion of spirits. Over and above all their troubles, high above them all, there was hovering the genius of their love, that each felt loving and beloved. And in this beatitude they both fell asleep on this cold hearth with its feathery ashes, without cover or pillow, and slept just as peacefully and softly as two little children in their cradle.

Dawn was breaking in the eastern sky when Sali awoke the first. Gently he woke Vreni, but she again and again snuggled near to him and would not rouse herself. At last he kissed her with vehemence on her mouth, and then Vreni did awaken, opened her eyes wide, and when she saw Sali she exclaimed: "Zounds, I've just been dreaming of you. I was dreaming I danced on our wedding-day, many, many hours, and we were both so happy, both so finely dressed, and nothing was lacking to our joy. And then we wanted to kiss each other, and we both longed for it, oh, so much, but always something was dragging us apart, and now it appears that it was you yourself that was interfering, that it was you who disturbed and hindered us. But how nice, how nice, that you are at least close by now."

And she fell around his neck and kissed him wildly, kissed him as if there were to be no end to it.

"And now confess, my dear, what have you been dreaming?" and she tenderly caressed his cheeks and chin.

"I was dreaming," he said, "that I was walking endlessly along a lengthy street, and through a forest, and you in the distance always ahead of me. Off and on you turned around for me, and were beckoning and smiling at me, and then it seemed to me I were in heaven. And that is all."

They stepped on the threshold of the kitchen door left open the whole night and which led direct into the open, and they had to laugh as they now saw each other plainly. For the right cheek of Vreni and the left one of Sali, which in their sleep had been resting against each other, were both quite red from the pressure, while the pallor of the opposite cheeks was engrossed by the coolth of early morning. So then they rubbed vigorously the pale cheeks to bring them into consonance with the others, each performing that service for the other. The fresh morning air, the dewy peace lying over the whole landscape, and the ruddy tints of coming sunrise, all this together made them forget their griefs and made them merry and playful, and into Vreni especially a gay spirit of carelessness seemed to have passed.

"To-morrow night then, I must leave this house," she said, "and find some other shelter. But before that happens I should love to be merry, real merry, just once, only once. And it is with thee, dear, that I want to enjoy myself. I should like to dance with you, really and truly, for a long, long time, till I could no longer move a foot. For it is that dance in my dream that I have to think of steadily. That dream was too fine, let us realize it."

"At all events I must be present when you dance," said Sali, "and see what becomes of you, and to dance with you as long as you like is just what I myself would love to do, you charming wild thing. But where?"

"Ah, Sali, to-morrow there will be kermess in a number of places near by. Of two of these I know. On such occasions we should not be spied upon and could enjoy ourselves to our heart's content. Below at the river front I could await you, and then we can go wherever we like, to laugh and be merry--just once, only once. But stop--we have no money." And Vreni's face clouded with the sad thought, and she added blankly: "What a pity! Nothing can come of it."

"Let be," smilingly said Sali, "I shall have money enough when I meet you."

But Vreni flushed and said haltingly: "But how--not from your father, not stolen money?"

"No, Vreni. I still have my silver watch, and I will sell that."

"Then that is arranged," said Vreni, and she flushed once more. "In fact, I think I should die if I could not dance with you to-morrow."

"Probably the best for us," said Sali, "if we both could die."

They embraced with tearful smiles, and bade each other good-by, but at the moment of parting they again laughed at each other, in the sure hope of meeting again next day.

"But when shall we meet?" asked Vreni.

"At eleven at latest," answered Sali. "Then we can eat a good noon meal together somewhere."

"Fine, fine," Vreni cried after him, "come half an hour earlier then."

But the very moment of their parting Vreni summoned him back once more, and she showed suddenly a wholly changed and despairing face: "Nothing, after all, can come of our plans," she then said, weeping hard, "because I had forgotten I had no Sunday shoes any more. Even yesterday I had to put on these clumsy ones going to town, and I don't know where to find a pair I could wear."

Sali stood undecided and amazed.

"No shoes?" he repeated after her. "In that case you'll have to go in these."

"But no, no," she remonstrated. "In these I should never be able to dance."

"Well, all we can do then is to buy new ones," said Sali in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Where and what with?" asked Vreni.

"Why, in Seldwyla, where they have shoe stores enough. And money I shall have in less than two hours."

"But, Sali, I cannot accompany you to all these shoe stores, and then there will not be money enough for all the other things as well."

"It must. And I will buy the shoes for you and bring them along to-morrow."

"Oh, but, you silly, they would not fit me."

"Then give me an old shoe of yours to take along, or, stop, better still, I will take your measure. Surely that will not be very difficult."

"Take my measure, of course. I never thought of that. Come, come, I will find you a bit of tape."

Then she sat down once more on the hearth, turned her skirt somewhat up and slipped her shoe off, and the little foot showed, from yesterday's excursion to town, yet covered with a white stocking. Sali knelt down, and then took, as well as he was able, the measure, using the tape daintily in encompassing the length and width with great care, and tying knots where wanted.

"You shoemaker," said Vreni, bending down to him and laughingly flushing in embarrassment. But Sali also reddened, and he held the little foot firmly in the palm of his hand, really longer than was necessary, so that Vreni at last, blushing still a deeper red, withdrew it, embracing, however, Sali once more stormily and kissing him with ardor, but then telling him hastily to go.

As soon as Sali arrived in town he took his watch to a jeweler and received six or seven florins for it. For his silver watch chain he also got some money, and now he thought himself rich as Croesus, for since he had grown up he had never had as large a sum at once. If only the day were over, he was saying to himself, and Sunday come, so that he could purchase with his riches all the happiness which Vreni and himself were dreaming of. For though the awful day after seemed to loom darker and darker in comparison, the heavenly pleasures anticipated for Sunday shone with all the greater lustre. However, some of his remaining leisure time was spent agreeably by him in choosing the desired pair of shoes for Vreni. In fact this job to him was a most joyous diversion. He went from one shoestore to another, had them show him all the women's footwear they had in stock, and finally bought the prettiest pair he could find. They were of a finer quality and more ornate than any Vreni had ever owned. He hid them under his vest, and throughout the rest of the day did not leave them out of his sight; he even put them under his pillow at night when he went to bed. Since he had seen the girl that day and was to meet her again next day, he slept soundly and well, but was up early, and then began to pick out his Sunday finery, dressing with greater care than ever before in his life. When he was done he looked with satisfaction at his own image in his little broken mirror. And indeed it presented an enticing picture of youth and good looks. His mother was astonished when she saw him thus attired as though for his wedding, and she asked him the meaning of it. The son replied, with a mien of indifference, that he wanted to take a long stroll into the country, adding that he felt the effects of his constant confinement in the close house.

"Queer doings, all the time," grumbled his father with ill-humor, "and forever skirmishing about."

"Let him have his way," said the mother. "Perhaps a change of air and surroundings will do him good. I'm sure to look at him he needs it. He is as pale as a ghost."

"Have you some money to spend for your outing?" now asked his father. "Where did you get it from?"

"I don't need any," said Sali.

"There is a florin for you," replied the old man, and threw him the coin. "You can turn in at the village and visit the tavern, so that they don't think we're so badly off."

"I don't intend to go to the village, and I have no use for the money. You may keep it," replied Sali, with a show of indignation.

"Well, you've had it, at any rate, and so I'll keep the money, you ill-conditioned fellow," muttered the father, and put the coin back in his pocket.

But his wife who for some reason unknown to herself felt that day particularly distressed on account of her son, brought down for him a large handkerchief of Milan silk, with scarlet edges, which she herself had worn a few odd times before and of which she knew that he liked it. He wound it about his neck, and left the long ends of it dangling. And the flaps of his shirt collar, usually worn by him turned down, he this time let stand on end, in a fit of rustic coquetry, so that he offered altogether the appearance of a well-to-do young man. Then at last, Vreni's little shoes hid below his vest, he left the house at near seven in the morning. In leaving the room a singularly powerful sentiment urged him to shake hands once more with his parents, and having reached the street, he was impelled to turn and take a last glance at the house.

"I almost believe," said Manz sententiously, "that the young fool is smitten with some woman. Nothing but that would be lacking in our present circumstances indeed."

And the mother replied: "Would to God it were so. Perhaps the poor fellow might yet be happy in life."

"Just so," growled the father. "That's it. What a heavenly lot you are picking for him. To fall in love and to have to take care of some penniless woman--yes indeed, that would be a great thing for him, would it not?"

But Mother Manz only smiled slightly, and said never another word.

Sali at first directed his steps toward the shore of the river, to that trysting-place where he was to meet Vreni. But on the way he changed his mind and steered straight for the village itself, hoping to meet her there awaiting him, since the time till noon otherwise seemed lost to him.

"What do we have to care about gossips now?" he said to himself. "And they dare not say anything against her anyway, nor am I afraid of anyone."

So he stepped into Vreni's room without any ceremony, and to his delight found her already completely dressed and bedecked, seated patiently on a stool, and awaiting her lover's coming. Nothing but the shoes was lacking.

But Sali stopped right in the centre of the room and stood like one nailed to the spot, so beautiful and alluring Vreni looked in her holiday attire. Yet it was simple enough. She wore a plain skirt of blue linen, and above that a snow-white muslin kerchief. The dress fitted her slender body wonderfully, and the brown hair with its pretty curls had been well arranged, and the usually obstinate curls lay fine and dainty about head and neck. Since Vreni had scarcely left the house for so many weeks, her complexion had grown more delicate and almost transparent; her griefs also had contributed toward that result. But at that instant a rush of sudden joy and love poured over that pallor one scarlet layer after another, and on her bosom she wore a fine nosegay of roses, asters and rosemary. She was seated at the window, and was breathing still and quiet the fresh morning air perfumed by the sun. But when she saw Sali she at once stretched out her pretty arms, bare from the elbow. And with a voice melodious and tender she exclaimed: "How nice of you and how right to come already. But have you really brought me the shoes? Surely? Well, then I won't get up until I have them on."

Sali without further ado produced the shoes and handed them to the eager maiden. Vreni instantly cast her old ones aside, slipped the new ones on, and indeed, they fitted excellently. Only now she rose quickly from her seat, dandled herself in the shoes, and walked up and down the room a few times, to be sure of their fit. She pulled up a bit her blue dress in order to admire them the better, and with extreme pleasure she examined the red loops in front, while Sali could not get his fill of the charming picture the girl presented--the lovely excitement that beautified her the more, the willowy shape, the gently heaving bosom, the delicate oval of the face with its pretty features, animated with feminine enjoyment of the moment, eager with the mere joy of living, grateful to the giver of this last bit of finery that her childish soul had longed for.

"You are looking at my posy," she said. "Have I not managed to pick a nice one? You must know these are the last ones I have managed to find in this wasted place. But there was, after all, still left a rosebud, over at the hedge in a sheltered spot a few of them and some other flowers, and the way they are now gathered up and arranged one would never think they came from a house decayed and fallen. But now it is high time for me to leave here, for not a single flower is there, and the whole house is bare."

Then only Sali noticed that all the few movables still left were gone.

"You poor little Vreni," he deplored, "have they already taken everything from you?"

"Yes," she said with a ludicrous attempt to be tragic, "yesterday, after you had left, they came and took everything of mine away that could be moved at all, and left me nothing but my bed. But that I have also sold at once, and here is the money for it--see!" And she hauled forth from the depths of an inside pocket a handful of bright new silver coins.

"With this," she continued, "the orphan patron said to me, I was to find another service in town somewhere, and that I was to start out to-day."

"Really," said Sali, after glancing about in the kitchen and the other rooms, "there is nothing at all left, no furniture, no sliver of fuel, no pot or kettle, no knife or fork. And have you had nothing to eat this morning?"

"Nothing at all," answered Vreni, with a happy laugh. "I might have gone out and got myself something for breakfast, but I preferred to remain hungry, so I could eat a lot with you, for you cannot think how much I am going to enjoy my first meal with you--how awfully much I am going to eat with you present. I am almost dying with impatience for it." And she showed him a row of pearly teeth and a little red tongue to emphasize what she said.

Sali stood like one enchanted.

"If I only might touch you," murmured Sali, "I should soon show you how much I love you, you pretty, pretty thing."

"No, no, you are right," quickly rejoined Vreni, "you would ruin all my finery, and if we also handle my flowers with some care my head and hair will profit from it, because ordinarily you disarrange all my curls."

"Well, then," grumbled Sali, "let us go."

"Not quite yet; we must wait till my bed has been fetched away. For as soon as that is gone I am going to lock up the house, and I am never to return to it. My little bundle I am going to give to the woman to keep, to the one who has bought my bed."

So they sat down together and waited until the woman showed up, a peasant woman of squat shape and robust habit, one who loved to talk, who had a stout boy with her that was to carry the bedstead. When this woman got sight of Vreni's lover and of the girl herself in all her finery, she opened mouth and eyes to their fullest, squared herself and put her arms akimbo, shouting: "Why, look only, you're starting well, Vreni. With a lover and yourself dressed up like a princess."

"Don't I?" laughed Vreni, in a friendly way. "And do you know who that is?"

"I should think so," said the woman. "That is Sali Manz, or I am much mistaken. Mountains and valleys, they say, do not meet, but people most certainly do. But, child, let me warn you. Think how your parents have fared."

"Ah, that is all changed now," smilingly replied Vreni. "Everything has been adjusted, and now things are smoothed out. See here, Sali is my promised husband." And the girl told this bit of news in a manner almost condescending, and bent toward the woman one of her bewitching glances.

"Your promised husband, is he? Well, well, who would have thought it?" chattered the peasant woman, feeling highly honored at being the recipient of this interesting intelligence.

"Yes, and he is now a wealthy gentleman," went on Vreni, "for he has just won a hundred thousand dollars in the lottery. Just think!"

The woman gave a jump of surprise, threw up her hands, and shouted: "Hund--hundred thousand--Hund--"

Vreni repeated it with a serious face.

The woman grew still more excited.

"Hundred thousand--well, well. But you are making fun of me, child. Hund--Is it possible?"

"All right, as you choose," went on Vreni, still smiling.

"But if it is true, and he gets all that money, what are you two going to do with it? Are you to become a stylish lady, or what?"

"Of course, within three weeks our wedding takes place--such a wedding."

"Oh, my goodness, is it possible? But no, you are telling me stories, I know."

"Well, he has already bought the finest house in Seldwyla, with a fine vineyard and the biggest garden attached. And you must come and pay us a visit, after we're there--I count on it."

"Why, what a witch you are," the woman went on between belief and unbelief.

"You will see how nice it is there," continued Vreni unabashed. "A cup of coffee you'll get, such as you never drank before, and plenty of cake with it, of butter and honey."

"Oh, you lucky duck!" shrieked the woman, "depend upon my coming, of course." And she made an eager face, as though she already saw spread before her all these dainties.

"But if you should happen to come at noontime," went on Vreni in her fanciful tale, "and you would be tired from marketing, you shall have a bowl of strong broth and a bottle of our extra wine, the one with the blue seal."

"That will certainly do me good," said the woman.

"And there shall be no lack of some candy and white wheaten rolls, for your little ones at home."

"I think I can taste it already," answered the woman, and she turned her eyes heavenwards.

"Perhaps a pretty kerchief, or the remnant of a bolt of extra fine silk, or a costly ribbon or two for your skirts, or enough for an apron I suppose will be found, if we rummage in my drawers and trunks together sometime when we are talking things over."

The woman turned completely on her heels and shook her skirts with a jubilant yodel.

"And in case your husband could start in the cattle dealing way, and needed a bit of capital for it, you would know where to apply, would you not? My dear Sali will always be glad to invest some of his superfluous money in such a manner. And I myself might add a few pennies from my savings to help out a good and intimate gossip, you may be certain."

By this time the last faint doubts had vanished. The woman wrung her uncouth hands, and said, with a great deal of sentiment: "That's what I have always been saying, you are a square and honest and beautiful girl! May the Lord always be good to you and reward you for what you are going to do for me!"

"But on my part, I must insist that you, too, treat me well."

"Surely you have a right to expect that," said the woman.

"And that you at all times offer me first all your produce, be it fruit or potatoes, or vegetables, and to do this before you take them to the public market, so that I may always be sure of having a real peasant woman on hand, one upon whom I may rely. Whatever anybody else is willing to pay you for your produce, I will also be willing to give. You know me. Why, there is nothing nicer than a wealthy city lady, one who sits within town walls and cannot know prices and conditions there, and yet needs so many things in her household, and an honest and well-posted woman from the country, experienced in all that concerns her, who are bound together by durable friendship and a community of interests. The city lady profits from it at all sorts of occasions, as for example at weddings and baptisms, at seasons of illness or crop failure, at holidays and famine time, or inundations, from which the Lord preserve us!"

"From which the Lord preserve us!" repeated the woman solemnly, sobbing and wiping her wet face on her ample apron. "But what a sensible and well-informed little wife you'll make, to be sure! Without doubt you will live as happily as a mouse in the cheese, or there is no justice in this world. Handsome, clean, smart and wise, fit for and willing to tackle all work at any time. None is as good-looking and as fine as thou art, no, not in the whole village, and even some distance further away. And who has got you for wife can congratulate himself; he is bound to be in paradise, or he is a scoundrel, and he will have me to deal with. Listen, Sali, do not fail to be nice to Vreni, or you will hear a word from me, you lucky devil, to break such a rose without thorns as this one here!"

"For to-day, my dear woman," concluded Vreni, "take this bundle along, as we agreed yesterday, and keep it till I send for it. But it may be that I myself come for it, in my own carriage, and get it, if you have no objection. A drink of milk you will not refuse me in that case, and a nice cake, such as perhaps an almond tart, I shall probably bring along myself."

"You blessed child, give it here, your bundle," the peasant woman quavered, still completely under the influence of Vreni's eloquence.

Vreni therefore deposited on top of the bedding which the woman had already tied up, a huge bag containing all the girl's belongings, so that the stout-limbed woman was bearing a perfect tower of shaking and trembling baggage on her head.

"It is almost too much for me to carry at once," she complained. "Could I not come again and divide the load in halves?" she wanted to know.

"No, no," answered Vreni, "we must leave here at once, for we have to visit a whole number of wealthy relatives, and some of these are far away, the kind, you know, who have now recognized us since we have become rich ourselves. You know how the world wags."

"Yes, indeed," said the woman, "I do know, and so God keep you, and think of me now and then in your glorious new state."

Then the peasant woman trundled off with her monstrously high tower of bundles, preserving its equilibrium by skillfully balancing the weight, and behind her trudged her boy, who stood up in the center of Vreni's gaily painted bedstead, his hard head braced against the baldaquin of it in which the eye beheld stars and suns in a firmament of multicolored muslin, and like another Samson, grasping with his red fists the two prettily carved slender pillars in front which supported the whole. As Vreni, leaning against Sali, watched the procession meandering down between the gardens of the nearer houses, and the aforesaid little temple forming part of her whilom bedstead, she remarked: "That would still make a fine little arbor or garden pavilion if placed in the midst of a sunny garden, with a small table and a bench inside, and quickly growing vines planted around. Eh, Sali, wouldn't you like to sit there with me in the shade?"

"Why, yes, Vreni," said he, smiling, "especially if the vines once had grown to a size."

"But why not go now?" continued she. "Nothing more is holding us here."

"True," he assented. "Come, then, and lock up the house. But to whom will you deliver up the key?"

Vreni looked around. "Here to this halberd let us hang it. For more than a century it has been in our house, as I've often heard father say. Now it stands at the door as the last sentinel."

So they hung the rusty key of the housedoor to one of the rustier curves of the stout weapon, which was fairly overgrown with bean vines, and sallied forth.

But after all Vreni grew faint, and Sali had to support her the first score steps, the parting with the place where her cradle had stood making her sad. But she did not look back.

"Where are we bound for first?" she wanted to know.

"Let us make a regular excursion across the country," said Sali, "and stop at a spot where we shall be comfortable all day long. And don't let us hurry. Towards evening we shall easily be able to find a dance going on."

"Good," answered Vreni. "Thus we shall be together the whole day, and go where we like. But above all, I feel quite faint. Let us stop in the next village and get some coffee."

"Of course," said the young man. "But let us first get away from here."

Soon they were in the open, fields of ripe, waving corn or else of fresh stubble around them, and went along, quietly and full of deep contentment, close to each other, breathing the pure air as though freed from prison walls. It was a delicious Sunday morning in September. There was not a cloud to be seen in the sky of deep azure, and in the distance the hills and woods were enwrapped in a delicate haze, so that the whole landscape looked more solemn and mysterious. From everywhere the tolling of the church bells was heard, the harmonious deep tones of a big swinging bell belonging to a wealthy congregation, or the talkative two small bells of a poor village that made fast time to create any impression at all. The lovers forgot completely as to what was to become of them at the end of this rare day, forgot the disturbing uncertainties of their young lives, and gave themselves up completely to the intoxicating delights of the moment, sank their very souls in a calm joy that knew no words and no fears. Neatly clothed, free to come or go, like two happy ones who before God and men belong to each other by all rights, they went forth into the still Sunday country side. Each slight sound or call, reverberating and finally losing itself in the general silence, shook their hearts as though the strings of a harp had been touched by divine fingers. For Love is a musical instrument which makes resound the farthest and the most indifferent subjects and changes them into a music all its own.

Though both were hungry and faint, the half hour's walk to the next village seemed to them but a step, and they entered slowly the little inn that stood at the entrance to the place.

Sali ordered a substantial and appetizing breakfast, and while it was being prepared they observed, quiet as two mice, the interior of this homely place of entertainment, everything in it being scrupulously clean and orderly, from the walls and tables and napkins to the hearth and floor. The guest room itself was large and airy, and the window panes glittered in the furtive rays of the sun. The host of the inn was at the same time a baker, and his last baking, just out of the oven, spread a delicious odor through the whole house. Stacks of fresh loaves were carried past them in clean baskets, since after church service the members of the congregation were in the habit of getting here their white bread or to drink their noon shoppen. The hostess, a rather handsome and neat woman, dressed in their Sunday finery all her little brood of children, leisurely and pleasantly, and as she was done with one more of the little ones, the latter, proud and glad, would come running to Vreni, showing her all their finery, and innocently boasting and bragging of their belongings and of all else they held precious.

When at last the fragrant coffee was brought and served for them, together with other good things, at a convenient table, the two young people sat down somewhat embarrassed, just as if they had been invited as honored guests to do so. But they got over this mood, and whispered to each other modestly but happily, feeling the joy of each other's presence. And oh, how Vreni enjoyed her breakfast, the strong coffee, the cream, the fresh rolls still warm from the oven, the rich butter and the honey, the omelet, and all the other splendid things dished up for them. Delicious it all tasted, not only because she had been really hungry, but because she could look all the while at Sali, and she ate and ate, as if she had been fasting for a whole year.

With that she also took pleasure in the pretty service, the fine cups and saucers and dishes, the dainty silver spoons, and the snowy linen. For the hostess seemed to have made up her mind about these two, and she evidently regarded them as young people of good family, who were to be waited upon in proper style, and several times she came and sat down by them, chatting most agreeably, and both Sali and Vreni answered her sensibly, whereat the woman became still more affable. And Vreni felt the wholesome influence of all this so strongly, and a sense of snug comfort coursed so pleasantly through her veins that she in her mind found it hard to choose between the delights of wandering about in the woods and fields, hand in hand with her lover, or remaining for some time longer here in this inn, in this haven of rest and creature comfort, honored and respected and dreaming herself into the illusion of owning such a nice home as this herself.

But Sali himself rendered the choice easier, for in a perfectly proper and rather husbandlike manner he urged departure, just as though they had duties to fulfil elsewhere. Both host and hostess saw the young couple to the door, and bade them good-by in the most orthodox and well-meaning way, and Vreni, too, showed her manners and reciprocated their courtesy like one to the manner born, then following Sali in most decent and moral style. But even after reaching the open country once more and entering an oak forest a couple of miles long, both of them were still under the influence of the spell, and they went along in a dreamy mood, just as though they both did not come from homes destroyed and filled with hatred and discord, but from happy and harmonious homes, expecting from life the near fulfilment of all their rosy hopes.

Vreni bent her pretty head down on her flower-bedecked bosom, deep in thought, and went along the smooth, damp woodpath with hands carefully held along her sides, while Sali stepped along elastic and upright, quick and thoughtful, his eyes fastened to the oak trunks ahead of him, like a well-to-do peasant reflecting on the problem which of these trees it would best pay to cut down and which to leave. But at last they awoke from these vain dreams, glanced at each other and discovered that they were still maintaining the attitude with which they had left the inn. Then they both blushed and their heads drooped in melancholy fashion. Youth, however, soon reasserted itself. The woods were green, the sky overhead faultlessly blue, and they were alone by themselves in the world, and thus they soon drifted back into that train of thought. But they did not long remain by themselves, since this attractive forest road began to be alive with groups and couples out for a bracing walk in the cool shade, most of them returning from service in church, and nearly all of these were singing gay worldly tunes, trifling and joking with each other. For in these parts it so happens that the rustics have their customary walks and promenades as well as the city dwellers, to which they resort at leisure, only with this great difference that their pleasure grounds cost nothing to maintain and that these are finer in every way, since Nature alone has made them. Not alone do they stroll about on Sundays through fields and meadows and woods with a peculiar sense of freedom and recreation, taking stock of their ripening crops and the prospects of the harvest to come, but they also choose with unerring taste excursions along the edge of forest or meadow, hill or dale, sit down for a brief rest on the summit of a height, whence they enjoy a fine view, or sing in chorus at another suitable spot, and certainly obtain fully as much, if not more, pleasure out of all this as town folk do. And since they do all this, not as labor but diversion, one must conclude that these rustics, despite of what has often been claimed to the contrary, are lovers of nature, aside from the strictly utilitarian view of it. And always they break off something green and living, young and old, even weak and decrepit women, when they revisit the scenes of long ago, and the same spirit is seen in the habit that these country people have, including sedate men of business, of cutting for themselves a slender rod of hazel, or a snappy cane, whenever they walk through woods or forest, and these they will peel all but a small bunch of green leaves at the point. Such rods or twigs they will bear as though it were a sceptre, and when they enter an office or public place they will put them in a corner of the room, and never forget to get them again, even after the most serious and important matters have been discussed, and to take them along with them home. And it is then only the privilege of the youngest of their boys to seize it, break it, play with it, in fine, destroy it.

When Sali and Vreni noticed these many couples out for a holiday stroll, they laughed to themselves, and rejoiced that they, too, were such a happy pair; they lost themselves on side paths that led away from every noise, and there they felt protected by the green solitude. They remained where they liked, went on or rested again for a spell, and in unison with the sky overhead which was cloudless, no carking care came to disturb their serenity. This state of perfect, unalloyed bliss lasted for them for hours, and they for the time forgot wholly whence they came and whither they were going, and behaved with such a degree of decorum that Vreni's little posy actually remained as fresh and intact as it had been early in the morning, and her plain Sunday dress showed neither crease nor stain. As to Sali, he behaved all this time not like a youthful rustic of less than twenty, nor like the son of a broken-down tavern keeper, but rather like a youth a couple of years younger and quite innocent, withal of the best education. It was almost comical to observe his conduct towards his merry Vreni, looking at her with a touching mixture of tenderness, respect and care. For these two lovers, so unsophisticated and so entirely without guile, somehow understood how to run in the course of this one day of perfect joy vouchsafed them through all the gamut of love, and to make up not alone for the earlier and more poetic stages of it but also to taste its bitter and ultimate end with its passionate sacrifice of life itself.

Thus they thoroughly tired themselves running about part of the day, and hunger had come a second time that day when, from the crest of a shady mountain, they at last perceived, far down at their feet, a village of some size lying there in the glow of the westering sun. Rapidly they made the descent, and entered the village just as decorously as they had done the other earlier in the day. Nobody was about that knew them even by sight, for Vreni particularly had scarcely at all mingled with people during the last few years, nor had she been off on visits to other villages. Therefore they presented entirely the appearance of a decent young couple out on an errand of importance.

They went to the best inn of the place, and there Sali at once ordered a good and substantial meal. A table was specially reserved for them, and everything needful was there laid out and they sat down again demurely in the corner and eyed the trappings and furniture of the handsome room, with its wainscoted walls of polished walnut, the well-appointed sideboard of the same wood, and the filmy window curtains of white lace. The hostess stepped up to them in a sociable manner, and set a vase full of fresh flowers on the table.

"Until the soup is ready," she said pleasantly, "you may like to feast your eyes on these flowers from our garden. From all appearance, if you don't mind my curiosity, you are a young couple on their way to town to get married to-morrow?"

Vreni blushed furiously, and did not dare raise her head. Nor did Sali say anything in reply, and the hostess continued: "Well, of course, you are both still very young. But young love, long life, as the saying is, and at least you are both good-looking enough and need not hide yourselves from people. If you will but work and strive together like sensible folk, you may succeed in life before you know it, for youth is a good thing, and so are diligence and faith in one another. But that, of course, is necessary, for there will come also days you will not like, many days, many days. But after all, life is pleasant enough, if one but understands how to make a proper use of it. And don't mind my chatter, you young people, but it does me good to look at you two, so handsome and young."

Just then the waitress brought in the soup, and since she had overheard the concluding phrases, and would herself have liked to get married, she regarded Vreni with envious eyes, for she begrudged her what she assumed was so soon in store for this young girl. She retired precipitately into the adjoining room, and there she let her tongue go clacking. To the hostess who was busy there with some household task, she said, so loud as to be distinctly heard by the young people: "Yes, these are indeed the right kind of people to go to town and hurry up marrying, without a penny, without friends, without dowry, and with nothing in view but misery and beggary! What in the world is to become of such people if the girl is still so young that she does not even know how to put on her frock or jacket, nor how to cook a plate of soup! Oh, what fools! But I feel sorry for the young fellow, such a good-looking fellow he is, and then to get a little ignorant doll like that!"

"Sh-sh--will you keep your mouth shut, you evil-mouthed slut," broke in the indignant hostess. "Don't you dare say anything against them. I am pretty sure that is a deserving young couple, and I will not hear them wronged. Probably they are from the mountains where the factories are, and while they are not dressed richly they look neat and cleanly, and if only they are fond of each other and not afraid of work, they will get along better than you with your bitter tongue. And that I will tell you--you'll have to wait a long while before anybody will take you, unless you change considerably, you vinegary old thing!"

Thus it was that Vreni tasted all the delights of a bride on her wedding trip: the well-meaning conversation of an experienced and sensible woman, the jealousy of a wicked and man-crazy person, one who from anger at the bride praises and sympathizes with the lover, and an appetizing meal at the side of this same lover. She glowed in the face like a carnation, her heart beat like a trip hammer, but she ate and drank nevertheless with a perfectly normal appetite, and was all the more amiable with the waitress who served them, but could not help on such occasions looking tenderly at Sali, and whispering to him, so that he also began to feel rather amorous. However, they sat a long time over their meal, delaying its end, as though they were both unwilling to destroy the lovely deception. The hostess came and brought them for dessert all sorts of sweet cakes and other dainties, and Sali ordered rarer and more fiery wine, so that the choice liquor ran through Vreni's veins like a flame, albeit she was cautious and sipped it but sparingly and kept up the semblance of a chaste and prudent young bride. Half of this was natural cunning on her part; but as for the other half, she felt indeed as if the rôle were reality, and what with anxiety and what with ardent love for Sali she thought her little heart would burst, so that the walls seemed to her too narrow, and she begged him to go. And they went off. It was now as if they were afraid to turn aside from the main road and into side paths, where they would be by themselves, for they continued on the highway, right through the throng of pleasure seekers, not looking to right or left. But when they had left the village behind them and were on their way towards the next, where kermess was being celebrated, Vreni linked her arm in his and whispered: "Sali, why not belong altogether one to the other and be happy!"

And Sali answered, fastening his dreamy eyes upon the sun-flooded valley below where the meadows showed like a purple carpet of wildflowers, "Ah, why not?"

And they instantly stopped in the road, and wanted to kiss each other. But suddenly a group of passers-by broke out of the near woods, and then they felt shy and desisted. On they went towards the big village in which the bustle of kermess was already noticeable from afar. The lanes were crowded, and before the most considerable tavern of the place a multitude of noisy, shouting people were assembled. From inside the tavern the strains of a lively, gay tune were heard. For the young villagers had begun dancing shortly after the noon hour, and on an open square in front of the tavern a market had been established where all sorts of sweets were for sale, and in another couple of booths could be seen flimsy bits of finery, ornaments, silk kerchiefs and the like, and around these were to be seen children and some others who for the moment were content to be mere observers.

Sali and Vreni also stepped up to these booths, and they let their eyes travel over all these things. For both had instantly put their hands in their pockets and each wanted to present the other with a little gift, since that was the first and only time they had been together at a fair. Sali, therefore, bought a big house of gingerbread, the walls of which were calsomined with a mixture of butter and melted sugar, and on the green roof of which were perching snow-white pigeons, while from the chimney a small cupid was peeping forth clad as a chimney sweep. At the open windows of this wonderful house plump-cheeked persons with diminutive red mouths were embracing each other most affectionately, the kissing process being represented by the gingerbread artist by a sort of double mouth, or twins, one melting into the other. Black points meant eyes, and on the pinky-red housedoor there could be read the following touching stanzas:

A gentleman in a blue frock coat and a lady with an expansive bosom thus complimented each other by these rhymes into the house; both were painted to right and left of the wall. Vreni on her part presented Sali with a gingerbread heart, on which on either side these verses were pasted:

Both of them eagerly read these verses, and never had rhymes, never had any kind of poetry, been more deeply felt and appreciated than were these gingerbread stanzas. They could not help fancying that they had been specially written for them, for they fitted so marvelously their requirements.

"Ah, you give me a house," sighed Vreni. "But I have first made thee a gift of one myself, and of the real one. For our hearts are now our sole dwellings, and within them we live, and we carry our houses about with us wherever we may go, just like the snail. Other abode we have none left now."

"But then we are snails really, of which each carries the house of the other," replied Sali.

"Then we must never leave each other, for fear that we lose the other's house," answered Vreni.

They did not notice that they themselves were perpetrating the same species of humor as was spread out on the printed pasters of the gingerbread literature. So they continued to study the latter with deep interest. The most pathetic sentiments, both agreed, were found on the heartshaped cakes, whereof there was a great choice, both plain and ornamental, small and large. All the verses they read seemed to them wonderfully apt and appropriate to the occasion. When Vreni read on a gilt heart which like a lyre bore strings:

she could not refrain from remarking: "How true that is! Why, I can hear my own heart making music!"

An image of Napoleon in gingerbread was also there, and even this, instead of speaking in heroic measure, symbolized a love-smitten swain, for it declared in wretched rhyme:

But while both seemed busy sounding all the depths of these appeals to the muses, they secretly made a purchase. Sali bought for Vreni a small gift ring, with a stone of green glass, and Vreni a ring fashioned out of chamois horn, in which a gold forget-me-not was cleverly inlaid. Probably both were moved with the same idea, that of a farewell gift.

However, while they thus were entirely engrossed with these things they had not remarked that a wide ring was forming gradually around them made up of people who watched them closely and curiously. For as quite a number of lads and lasses from their own village had come to the kermess, they had been recognized, and these all now stood at some little distance away from them, regarding with astonishment this neatly dressed couple that in their intense preoccupation had eyes for nothing else in the world.

"Just look," the murmuring went round; "why, that is Vreni Marti and Sali from town. They surely have met and made up. And what tenderness, what friendship for one another! Only notice!"

The amazement of these onlookers was strangely mingled of pity with the ill-fortune of the young couple, of disdain for the wickedness and poverty of their parents, and of envy for the happiness and deep affection of these two. For it struck these coarse materialistic rustics that the couple were fond of each other in a manner most unusual in their own circles, excited to an uncommon degree and so taken up with one another and indifferent to all else, as to make them almost appear to belong to a more aristocratic sphere, so that altogether they seemed singular and strange to these gross villagers.

When therefore Sali and Vreni finally awoke from their dreams and threw a glance around, they saw nothing but staring faces. Nobody greeted them; and they themselves knew not whether to salute anyone of these former acquaintances, whose show of unfriendliness was, just the same, not so much design as astonishment. Vreni became afraid and blushed from sheer embarrassment, but Sali took her hand and led her away. And the poor girl followed him willingly, bearing in her hand the huge gingerbread cottage, although the trumpets and horns from inside the inn sounded so invitingly, and although she was most anxious and eager to dance.

"We cannot dance here," said Sali, when they had been going some little distance aside, "for there would not be any amusement in it under the circumstances."

"You are right," Vreni said sadly, "and I really think now we had better drop the whole idea and I will try and find a place for me to stay overnight."

"No," Sali cried, "you must have a chance to dance for once. For that, too, I brought you the shoes. Let us go where the poor folks are having a good time, since we, too, belong to them. They will not look down on us. At every kermess here there is also dancing at the Paradise Garden, since it belongs to this parish, and we are going there, and you can, if it comes to the worst, also find a bed to sleep there."

Vreni shuddered at the thought of having to sleep for the first time of her young life in a place where nobody knew her. But she followed without a murmur where Sali led her. Was he not everything in the world to her now? The so-called Paradise Garden was a house of entertainment situated in a beautiful spot, lying all by itself at the side of a mountain from which one had a view far over the whole country. But on holidays like this only the poorer classes, the children of small farmers and of day laborers, even vagrants, used to resort to it. A hundred years before a wealthy man of queer habits had built it as a summer villa for himself, and nobody had succeeded him as tenant, and since the house could not be used for anything else, the whole place after a while began to decay, and so finally it got into the hands of an innkeeper who managed it in his own peculiar way.

The name alone and the style of architecture had remained. The house itself consisted of but one story, and on top of that an open loggia had been erected, the roof of which was borne on the four corners by statues of sandstone. These were meant for the four archangels and were wholly defaced. At the edge of the roof could be seen all about small angels carved of the same material and all of them playing some musical instrument, the angels themselves showing monstrous heads and big paunches, fiddling, touching the triangle, blowing the flute, striking the cymbal or the tambourine; these instruments had originally been gilt. The ceiling inside and the low sidewalls, as well as all the rest of the house were still covered with rather dingy fresco paintings, and these represented dancing and singing saints. But all of it had suffered from the weather and the rain, and was now as indistinct and chaotic as a dream itself. And besides, all over the walls clambered grapevines, and at this time of year purplish ripening grapes peeped forth from between the foliage. All about the house itself there stood chestnut trees, and gnarled big rosebushes, growing wildly after a fashion of their own, just as lilac bushes would grow elsewhere.

The loggia served as dance hall, and as Vreni and Sali came in sight of the building they could notice the dancing couples turning around and around under the open roof, and outside, under the trees, drinking, shouting and noisy men and women were disporting themselves. It was a merry throng.

Vreni, who was carrying in her hand, demurely and almost piously, her wonderful gingerbread palace, resembled one of those ancient and sainted church patronesses sometimes seen in missals, with a model of the cathedral or other devout foundation displayed which would earn her the Church's benediction. But as soon as she heard the wild music that came down in a tumbling stream from the loggia, the poor thing forgot her grief. Suddenly all alive she demanded rapturously that Sali should dance with her. They pushed their way through all these people that were crowding the environs of the house and the lower floor, these being mostly ragged people from Seldwyla, with some who had been making a cheap excursion into the country, and all sorts of homeless vagrants. Then they ascended the stairs and at once after arriving on top they seized each other and were whirling away in a lively waltz. Not an eye did they give to their surroundings until the music came to a temporary halt. Then they stopped and turned around. Vreni had crushed her gingerbread house, and was just going to shed a few tears on that account when she noticed the black fiddler, and now felt a veritable terror.

He was seated near them, upon a bench which itself stood upon a big table, and he looked just as black and tawny as ever. But to-day he wore a bunch of green holly and pine in his funny little hat, and at his feet there stood a big bottle of claret and a tumbler, and he did not in the least touch either of these with his feet, although he was forever kicking up his legs to keep the tune while fiddling. Next to him sat a handsome young man with a French horn, but the young man looked melancholy, and a hunchback there also was, standing next a bass viol. Sali also had a fright in seeing the black fiddler, but the latter greeted them both in the friendliest manner and called out to them: "You see I knew that some day I should play to your dancing, just as I said when I last met you. And now, you darlings, I trust you'll have a good time, and take a drink with me."

He offered the full glass to Sali, who accepted it, emptied it and thanked the fiddler. And when he saw that Vreni was badly scared at seeing him, he did his best to reassure her, and jested with her in a rather nice way, until he had made her laugh. Thereupon Vreni recovered her courage, and both of them felt rather glad that they had an acquaintance there and were in a certain sense standing under the special protection of the black fellow. Then they danced steadily, forgetting themselves and the whole world in the constant twirling, singing, shouting and general noise, a noise which rolled down the hill and over the whole landscape which gradually began to be shrouded in a silvery autumn haze. They danced until twilight, when most of the merry guests disappeared, unsteady on their feet and shouting at the top of their voices. Those still remaining were the vagrants and stragglers, houseless and strongly inclined to turn night into day. Amongst these there were some who seemed on very friendly terms with the black fiddler and who for the most part looked outlandish because of oddities of costume. There was, for instance, a young man in a green corduroy jacket and a tattered straw hat, who wore around the crown of the latter a wreath of wild scarlet berries. He again had with him a savage sort of female who wore a skirt of cherry-red chintz and had a hoop made of young grapevine tied around her temples, so that at each side of her face hung a bunch of grapes. This couple was the jolliest of all, to be met with everywhere, and was dancing and singing without a stop. Then there was a slender, graceful girl there, wearing a thin silk dress and a white cloth on her head, the ends of which fell on her shoulders. The cloth had evidently once been a napkin or towel. But below this doubtful cloth there glowed a pair of magnificent eyes of deep violet hue. Around her neck this extravagant person wore a sixfold chain of the same autumnal berries, and this ornament suited her complexion marvelously well. This strange woman was dancing perpetually with none but herself, whirling almost unintermittently, with great grace and a very light step, refusing every partner that offered himself. Every time she passed in her dancing the sad hornblower she smiled, and the musician turned away his head.

Some other gay women or girls there were, together with their escorts, all of them poorly or fantastically clad, but with all that they assuredly enjoyed themselves greatly, and there seemed to be perfect accord among them all. When it had turned completely dark the host refused to furnish light for illumination, since the wind would blow the candles out anyway, and besides the full-moon would be out in a short spell, and for the present company, he claimed, the moonlight was ample. This declaration, instead of being opposed, caused general satisfaction among this mongrel crowd; they all stood up at the open sides of the dance hall and watched the moon rise in her full splendor, and when the new golden light flooded the wide hall, dancing was resumed with great earnestness. And so quiet, good-natured and well-mannered was it done as if they were turning under the light of a hundred wax candles. This singular light, too, made them all more intimately acquainted with each other, as though they had known them for years, and thus it was that Sali and Vreni could not very well avoid mingling with the rest and dancing with other partners. But whenever they had been separated for just a short while they flew and rejoined the other without delay, and felt delighted thereat. Sali made a sad face at this, and when dancing with another person would turn toward Vreni. But she would not notice that, but would glide along like a fairy, her features transfigured with pleasure, and her whole soul enraptured with the swaying motions of the dance, no matter who her partner.

"Are you jealous, Sali?" she asked smilingly, when the musicians took a longer rest.

"Not the least," he replied.

"Then why are you so angry when I'm dancing with somebody else?" she wanted to know.

"I am not angry because of that," he said, "but only because I am forced to dance with another person but you. I cannot feel pleasant towards another girl. In fact, I feel just as though I had a block of wood in my arms if it is anybody but you. And you? How do you feel about that?"

"Oh, I feel as though I were in heaven so long as I merely can dance and know that you are present," replied Vreni. "But I believe I should at once fall down dead if you went and left me here by myself."

They had gone down from the dance hall and were now standing in the grounds before the house. Vreni put both her arms around his neck, pressed her slender trembling body against him, and put her burning cheek, wet from hot tears, to his, sobbing out: "We cannot marry, and yet I cannot leave you, not for a moment, not for a minute."

Sali embraced the girl, pressed her ardently against his heart, and covered her with kisses. His confused thoughts were struggling for some way out of the labyrinth that encompassed them both, but he saw none. Even if the blot of his family misery and his neglected education were not weighing against him, his extreme youth and his ardent passion would have prevented a long period of patience and self-denial, and then there would still have been his misfortune in having injured Vreni's father for life. The consciousness that happiness for himself and her was, after all, to be found only in a union honest, blameless and approved by the whole world, was just as much alive in him as in Vreni. In her case as in his, two beings ostracized by all, these reflections were like the last flaring up of their lost family honor, an honor that had been blazing for centuries in their respectable houses like a living flame, and which their fathers had involuntarily extinguished and destroyed by a misdeed which at the time had been committed more in thoughtlessness than with malice aforethought. For when they, in the attempt to enlarge their holdings by a piece of dishonesty that seemed at the time wholly without risk and not likely to entail serious consequences, had been guilty of a wrong to a person that had been universally given up as lost, they had done something which many of their otherwise correct neighbors would, under the same circumstances, likewise have done.

Such wrongs as that are indeed perpetrated every day in the year, on a large or a small scale. But once in a while Fate furnishes an example of how two such transgressors against the honor of their houses and against the property of another may oppose each other, and then these will unfailingly fight to the death and devour one the other like two savage beasts. For those who furtively or forcibly increase their estate may commit such fateful blunders not only when they are seated on thrones and then apply a high-sounding name to their lust and their misdeed, but the same in substance is often done as well in the humblest hut, and both categories of sinners frequently accomplish the very reverse of what they aimed at, and their shield of honor then becomes overnight a tablet of shame. But Sali and Vreni had both of them, when still children, seen and cherished the honor of their families, and well remembered how well they themselves were taken care of and how respected and highly considered their fathers had been in those days.

Later they had been separated for long years, and when they met again they saw in each other also the lost honor and luck of their houses, and that instinctive feeling had helped to make them cling to each other all the more tenaciously. They longed indeed, both of them, for happiness and joy, but only if it might be done legitimately and in the sight of all; yet at the same time their ardent affection for each other could not be suppressed and their senses, their bounding blood, called loudly for the consummation of their desires.

"Now it is night," said Vreni in a low tone of voice, "and we will have to part."

"What, I am to go home now and leave you alone?" retorted Sali. "No, that can never be."

"But what then?" said Vreni, plaintively. "Tomorrow morning by daylight things will look no better."

"Let me give you a piece of advice," a shrill voice suddenly was heard behind them. It was the black fiddler, who now came up to them. "You foolish young things! There you are now, and you know not what to do with yourselves, although you are fond of each other. Yet nothing easier than that. I advise you to delay no more. Let one take the other, just as you are. Come along with me and my good friends here, right into the mountains, for there you need no priest, no money, no documents, no honor, no dowry, no bed and no wedding--nothing but your mutual good will. Don't get frightened. Things are not at all so bad with us. Pure air and enough to eat, provided one is not afraid to work. The green woods are our home, and there we love and keep house just as we wish. During the winter we lie snug in some warm, cosy den of our own contriving, or else we creep into the warm hay of the peasants. Therefore, lose no time. Keep your wedding right now and here, and then come along with us, and you are rid of all your cares, and may belong to each other forever and aye, or at least as long as you want to. For have no fear--you'll grow old with us; our style of life procures good strong health, you may well believe me. And don't think, you silly young folk, that I am bearing you a grudge because of what your fathers have done to me. No indeed. Of course, it gives me pleasure to see you arrived there where you now are. But with that I rest content, and I promise you to help and aid you in all sorts of ways if you will only be guided by me."