So Knud left his master, and went to work for another who
lived farther in the town, where no elder grew. His workshop was quite
close to one of the old stone bridges, near to a water-mill, round
which the roaring stream rushed and foamed always, yet restrained by
the neighboring houses, whose old, decayed balconies hung over, and
seemed ready to fall into the water. Here grew no elder; here was
not even a flower-pot, with its little green plant; but just
opposite the workshop stood a great willow-tree, which seemed to
hold fast to the house for fear of being carried away by the water. It
stretched its branches over the stream just as those of the
willow-tree in the garden at Kjoge had spread over the river. Yes,
he had indeed gone from elder-mother to willow-father. There was a
something about the tree here, especially in the moonlight nights,
that went direct to his heart; yet it was not in reality the
moonlight, but the old tree itself. However, he could not endure it:
and why? Ask the willow, ask the blossoming elder! At all events, he
bade farewell to Nuremberg and journeyed onwards. He never spoke of
Joanna to any one; his sorrow was hidden in his heart. The old
childish story of the two cakes had a deep meaning for him. He
understood now why the gingerbread man had a bitter almond in his left
side; his was the feeling of bitterness, and Joanna, so mild and
friendly, was represented by the honeycake maiden. As he thought
upon all this, the strap of his knapsack pressed across his chest so
that he could hardly breathe; he loosened it, but gained no relief. He
saw but half the world around him; the other half he carried with
him in his inward thoughts; and this is the condition in which he left
Nuremberg. Not till he caught sight of the lofty mountains did the
world appear more free to him; his thoughts were attracted to outer
objects, and tears came into his eyes. The Alps appeared to him like
the wings of earth folded together; unfolded, they would display the
variegated pictures of dark woods, foaming waters, spreading clouds,
and masses of snow. "At the last day," thought he, "the earth will
unfold its great wings, and soar upwards to the skies, there to
burst like a soap-bubble in the radiant glance of the Deity. Oh,"
sighed he, "that the last day were come!"

Silently he wandered on through the country of the Alps, which
seemed to him like a fruit garden, covered with soft turf. From the
wooden balconies of