till continued silent, and I feared he
would set the young fellow down, whose tongue the wine had loosened,
somewhat ungently, "this gentleman is neither my sweetheart nor my
brother. We are both of us strangers here; who only had agreed to make
this excursion together. You talk about commanding but that demands
strength. A poor woman who will be buried before the spring arrives,
neither has spirit nor inclination for it. And now go with your Liesi
to Meran to the priest, and don't let it be said of you that you did
not know what you were doing when you gave her your promise."

The girl who was fresh and blooming, and had a frank and intelligent
countenance, now also rose and took the young man by the arm.

"Thank you, young lady," she said, "for helping me to get off with this
fellow. Say God speed, to the gentleman and lady, Natzi, and then come
along; and I hope ma'am that you will change your mind about dying. I
was a servant girl in one of the lodging-houses down at Meran during
two winters, and know many a one who quite recovered after having
ordered his coffin, and many a one who thought he was breathing his
last breath, afterwards climbed to the top of the Muth. The air of
Meran is so fine that I should not wonder if it woke up the dead. But
now goodbye your honours, or this one here, will go to sleep on the
spot where he is standing."

There really seemed some danger of this for he stood leaning against
the table, and vacantly stared at the floor. He nodded dreamily towards
us, and willingly let himself be led out.

I cannot deny that the whole scene had made a painful impression on me.
It did not exactly show the young fellow to disadvantage, but his talk
of which I have given the main part without his strong expressions had
vexed me. Morrik did not seem much edified either by this encounter.
The landlady who brought in our dinner, also asked importunate
questions, and so did not improve our humour. Moreover the air was
heavy in the low room and the smoke from the kitchen penetrated into
it. The cooking too was bad, so we were glad to have done with it and
to breathe again the fresh air. We walked slowly along the narrow paths
among the picturesque farms, talking little. My cheerfulness however
soon returned. "Are you not well?" I asked, as he pensively walked
beside me. "I cannot complain," he said, "I should feel neither care
nor grief if thoughts did not oppress me."

"Perhaps it would relieve you, if