rden stood an old, very old linden;
the spot was somewhat elevated, and a turfy slope stretched down to the
budding privet-hedge which bounded the garden. Under the linden was a
sandstone bench, also old and weather beaten, and from here one could
look away out on the Mark country, far, far out over cornfields and
green meadows, dark pine forests and sandy patches of heath.

There stood Anna Maria, looking toward the meadow on the other side of
the road, with its countless fresh mole-hills, and the wet road which
ran along beside the quiet little river, on whose banks the willows were
already growing yellow. How often of late had she stood here, how often
waited till a brown horse's head emerged from among the willows, and
then turned quickly and hurried into the house, for he must not see that
she was watching for him with all the longing of a warm, first love. And
_to-day_? She did not know herself how she had come hither, and she
looked blankly away into the mist of the spring evening as if she
neither saw the golden rays of the setting sun nor heard the shouting of
the village children in the distance. The air was intoxicatingly soft
and played gently with the black lace veil which had fallen from Anna
Maria's fair hair. She noticed it not. Then she quickly turned her head;
the breathing and step of a horse sounded along by the hedge: "Kurt
Stuermer!" she whispered, and started to go. But she stopped and saw him
come near, saw him ride away in the rosy evening; his eyes were cast
downward. How could he know who was looking after him with eyes almost
transfixed with burning pain? She stood there motionless, and looked
after him; the horse's tread sounded ominously in her ears as he stepped
upon the little bridge which united the Dambitz and Hegewitz fields, and
she still remained motionless after the willows had hidden the solitary
horseman from sight.

Meanwhile the sunset glow had become deep crimson, and faded again; the
wind blew harder, and rocked the budding linden-boughs, and bore along
with it the sound of a maiden's voice; an old song floated past Anna
Maria out into the country:

"I had better have died
Than have gained a love.
Ah, would I were not so sad!"

Then she turned and ran along the damp garden path as if pursued; she
stood still by the fish-pond, so close to it that the water touched her
foot, and looked into the dark mirror. In these Marieken had sought
oblivion when she might no