ady bestowed on me?" would he say to
himself at such times in still delight. And thus it went on for a long
while.

The beautiful northern autumn had already begun to redden the leaves of
the oaks and elms round the castle, when one day it chanced that Sintram
was sitting in company with Folko and Gabrielle in almost the very same
spot in the garden where he had before met that mysterious being whom,
without knowing why, he had named the little Master. But on this day
how different did everything appear! The sun was sinking slowly over
the sea, the mist of an autumnal evening was rising from the fields
and meadows around, towards the hill on which stood the huge castle.
Gabrielle, placing her lute in Sintram's hands, said to him, "Dear
friend, so mild and gentle as you now are, I may well dare to entrust to
you my tender little darling. Let me again hear you sing that lay of the
land of flowers; for I am sure that it will now sound much sweeter than
when you accompanied it with the vibrations of your fearful harp."

The young knight bowed as he prepared to obey the lady's commands. With
a grace and softness hitherto unwonted, the tones resounded from his
lips, and the wild song appeared to transform itself, and to bloom into
a garden of the blessed. Tears stood in Gabrielle's eyes; and Sintram,
as he gazed on the pearly brightness, poured forth tones of yet richer
sweetness. When the last notes were sounded, Gabrielle's angelic voice
was heard to echo them; and as she repeated,

"Sing heigh, sing ho, for that land of flowers,"

Sintram put down the lute, and sighed with a thankful glance towards the
stars, now rising in the heavens. Then Gabrielle, turning towards her
lord, murmured these words: "Oh, how long have we been far away from
our own shining castles and bright gardens! Oh, for that land of the
sweetest flowers!"

Sintram could scarce believe that he heard aright, so suddenly did he
feel himself as if shut out from paradise. But his last hope vanished
before the courteous assurances of Folko that he would endeavour to
fulfil his lady's wishes the very next week, and that their ship was
lying off the shore ready to put to sea. She thanked him with a kiss
imprinted softly on his forehead; and leaning on his arm, she bent her
steps, singing and smiling, towards the castle.

Sintram, troubled in mind, as though turned into stone, remained behind
forgotten. At length, when night was now in the