hter shall look
upon favourably into the bargain. I cast my own art on one side, I
learned the cooper's craft, and I am going to Nuernberg to work in
Master Martin's workshop. That is my object and intention. But now that
my home lies before me, and Rosa's image glows vividly before my eyes,
I could swoon for hesitation, anxiety, dread. I see _now_ the folly of
my undertaking clearly. Can I tell whether Rosa loves me, or ever will
love me?"

Reinhold had listened with even closer attention. He now rested his
head on his arm, and, placing his hand over his eyes, asked, in a
hollow, gloomy voice:

"Has Rosa ever given you any sign that she cares for you?"

"Ah," said Friedrich, "when I left Nuernberg, Rosa was more a child than
a girl. She certainly did not dislike me. She used to smile charmingly
on me when I never wearied of gathering flowers and making wreaths in
Herr Holzschuer's garden. But----"

"Well, there is some hope in that case," Reinhold cried out suddenly,
so violently, and in such an unpleasant, yelling tone, that Friedrich
felt almost frightened. Reinhold started to his feet, the sword at his
side rattled, and as he stood drawn up to his full height, the evening
shadows fell on his pale face, and distorted his gentle features in
such an ill-favoured sort that Friedrich cried, in real anxiety:

"What has come to you so suddenly?"

As he spoke he stepped backward, touching Reinhold's bundle with his
foot. A sound of strings rang forth of it, and Reinhold cried, angrily:

"Don't smash my lute, you villain!"

He took the instrument from his bundle and struck its strings stormily,
as if he would tear them in pieces. But soon his touch upon them grew
soft and tuneful.

"Let us go on down to the village, brother! I have here a fine remedy
against the Evil Spirits which stand in our way, and are in opposition
principally to _me_."

"Why should Evil Spirits stand in our way, dear brother?" asked
Friedrich. "But oh! your playing is beautiful, Please to go on with
it."

The gold stars had come forth in the dark azure of the heavens; the
night-wind was breathing in soft whispers over the perfumed meadows;
the streams were murmuring louder; the dark trees of the forest were
rustling all round in the distance. Reinhold and Friedrich went down
into the valley, playing and singing; and clear and bright, as on
shining pinions, their songs of Love and Longing floated on the breeze.

When they reached their n