enadier-cap, but the
whole habitation and environment, where on pegs of honor they hung,
looked ever trim and gay: a roomy painted Cottage, embowered in
fruit-trees and forest-trees, evergreens and honeysuckles; rising
many-colored 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 farther parley unfolding,
he deposited therefrom what seemed some Basket, overhung with
green Persian silk; saying only: _Ihr lieben Leute, hier bringe ein
unschatzbares Verleihen; nehmt es in aller Acht, sorgfaltigst benutzt
es: mit hohem Lohn, oder wohl mit schweren Zinsen, wird's einst
zuruckgefordert_. '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 parlor-table. Towards this the astonished
couple, now with lit candle, hastily turned their attention. Lifting
the green veil,