and in narrow strips, peeled away as one peels an apple!"

Lenore could not help laughing in spite of pain. "I should much like to
have experience of such a rain as that," said she.

"I am unselfish in not wishing to see you in such a plight," replied
Fink. "Ladies fare worst of all. All that constitutes their toilette
vanishes entirely in torrents such as these. Do you know the costume of
the Venus of Milo?"

"No," said Lenore, distressed.

"All women caught in a tropical rain look exactly like that lady, and
the men like scarecrows. Nay, sometimes it happens that human beings are
beaten down flat as penny-pieces, with a knob in the middle, which, on
closer examination, proves to be a human head, and mournfully calls out
to passers-by, 'Oh, my fellow-beings, this is what comes of going out
without an umbrella!'"

Again Lenore could not help laughing. "My foot no longer hurts me so
much; I believe that I could walk."

"That you shall not do," replied Fink. "The rain has not abated, and it
is so dark that one can hardly see one's outstretched hand."

"Then do me the kindness of going to look for the others. I am better
now, and I crouch here like a roe, hidden alike from rain and robbers."

"It won't do," rejoined Fink from his tree.

"I implore you to do so," cried Lenore, anxiously, stretching out her
hands from the plaid. "Leave me now alone." Fink turned round, seized
her hand, pressed it to his lips, and silently hurried off in the
direction the men had taken.

Lenore now sat alone beneath the fir-tree. The rain still rushed down,
and the thunder rolled above her, and at times a sudden flash showed her
the two long rows of trunks, looking like the yellow pillars of an
unfinished building, a black roof over them. At such moments the forest
seemed like an enchanted castle, rising out of the earth and sinking
into nothingness again. Mysterious tones, such as fill the woods by
night, sounded through the rain. Over her head there was a knocking at
regular intervals, as if some wicked wood-sprite were seeking admittance
to her shelter, which made her start, and ask herself whether it
proceeded from a spectre or the branch of a tree. Farther off was heard
the vehement croaking of some crow whose nest had been flooded, and
whose first sleep was disturbed. Close to her there was ghastly
laughter. "Hee, hee! hoo, hoo!" and again Lenore started. Was it a
malicious forest kobold, or only a night-owl? Nature spoke ar