scarcely resist lying down at his full length to sleep, although the
ground was flooded with the rain. Yet when he tried to rouse himself a
little, every object around him danced and trembled before his eyes.

Suddenly he observed in the doorway of a hut newly built under the
rock, a young maiden. He did not remember having seen this hut before,
yet there it stood; and he thought, at first, that the young maiden
was Annette, the schoolmaster's daughter, whom he had once kissed in
the dance. The maiden was not Annette; yet it seemed as if he had seen
her somewhere before, perhaps near Grindelwald, on the evening of
his return home from Interlachen, after the shooting-match.

"How did you come here?" he asked.

"I am at home," she replied; "I am watching my flocks."

"Your flocks!" he exclaimed; "where do they find pasture? There is
nothing here but snow and rocks."

"Much you know of what grows here," she replied, laughing. "Not
far beneath us there is beautiful pasture-land. My goats go there. I
tend them carefully; I never miss one. What is once mine remains
mine."

"You are bold," said Rudy.

"And so are you," she answered.

"Have you any milk in the house?" he asked; "if so, give me some
to drink; my thirst is intolerable."

"I have something better than milk," she replied, "which I will
give you. Some travellers who were here yesterday with their guide
left behind them a half a flask of wine, such as you have never
tasted. They will not come back to fetch it, I know, and I shall not
drink it; so you shall have it."

Then the maiden went to fetch the wine, poured some into a
wooden cup, and offered it to Rudy.

"How good it is!" said he; "I have never before tasted such
warm, invigorating wine." And his eyes sparkled with new life; a
glow diffused itself over his frame; it seemed as if every sorrow,
every oppression were banished from his mind, and a fresh, free nature
were stirring within him. "You are surely Annette, the schoolmaster's
daughter," cried he; "will you give me a kiss?"

"Yes, if you will give me that beautiful ring which you wear on
your finger."

"My betrothal ring?" he replied.

"Yes, just so," said the maiden, as she poured out some more wine,
and held it to his lips. Again he drank, and a living joy streamed
through every vein.

"The whole world is mine, why therefore should I grieve?"
thought he. "Everything is created for our enjoyment and happiness.
The stream of life is a