him; so that not only his old
regimental sword and grenadier-cap, but the whole habitation and
environment, where on pegs of honour they hung, looked ever trim and
gay: a roomy painted Cottage, embowered in fruit-trees and
forest-trees, evergreens and honeysuckles; rising many-coloured from
amid shaven grass-plots, flowers struggling-in through the very
windows; under its long projecting eaves nothing but garden-tools in
methodic piles (to screen them from rain), and seats where, especially
on summer nights, a King might have wished to sit and smoke, and call
it his. Such a _Bauergut_ (Copyhold) had Gretchen given her veteran;
whose sinewy arms, and long-disused gardening talent, had made it what
you saw.

'Into this umbrageous Man's-nest, one meek yellow evening or dusk,
when the Sun, hidden indeed from terrestrial Entepfuhl, did
nevertheless journey visible and radiant along the celestial Balance
(_Libra_), it was that a Stranger of reverend aspect entered; and,
with grave salutation, stood before the two rather astonished
housemates. He was close-muffled in a wide mantle; which without
further parley unfolding, he deposited therefrom what seemed some
Basket, overhung with green Persian silk; saying only: _Ihr lieben
Leute, hier bringe ein unschaetzbares Verleihen; nehmt es in aller
Acht, sorgfaeltigst benuetzt es: mit hohem Lohn, oder wohl mit schweren
Zinsen, wird's einst zurueckgefordert._ "Good Christian people, here
lies for you an invaluable Loan; take all heed thereof, in all
carefulness employ it: with high recompense, or else with heavy
penalty, will it one day be required back." Uttering which singular
words, in a clear, bell-like, forever memorable tone, the Stranger
gracefully withdrew; and before Andreas or his wife, gazing in
expectant wonder, had time to fashion either question or answer, was
clean gone. Neither out of doors could aught of him be seen or heard;
he had vanished in the thickets, in the dusk; the Orchard-gate stood
quietly closed: the Stranger was gone once and always. So sudden had
the whole transaction been, in the autumn stillness and twilight, so
gentle, noiseless, that the Futterals could have fancied it all a
trick of Imagination, or some visit from an authentic Spirit. Only
that the green-silk Basket, such as neither Imagination nor authentic
Spirits are wont to carry, still stood visible and tangible on their
little parlour-table. Towards this the astonished couple, now with lit