of the soft Italian songs that Vincenza knew and
had taught Cain, and then a home song of longing: "Why, oh why, my
heart, this sadness."

Cain sculled quite silently. His voice was like a bell, whose tone rose
from the water, and Vincenza's like a little bell, ringing on the
mountain, and they found each other, and it was as if they were
floating together over the silent lake, further and further, to lose
themselves among the rocky mounds beyond.

And so Cain and the young girl had almost reached the further bank
which was wholly lost and solitary. Cain drew in his oar and sat down.
"Let's stay here a while," said he, and they drifted contentedly and
talked of this and that, and looked down into the lake, and dipped
their hands into the ice-cold water and then looked up again at the
clouds. Because the motion of the clouds could be better seen from
Vincenza's seat, Cain got up and sat beside her in all simplicity. Then
they began to interpret the manifold forms of the clouds, and laughed
and made fun of each other, when one of them failed to see in the cloud
picture what the other seemed to see, and got quite excited when both
could plainly see the same thing. By and by a curious picture came
floating past, which was composed of two clouds, one narrow and light
colored and one smaller and darker, but both clinging together as if an
arm held them. They floated upward, now closer together, now almost
separating, so that it seemed as if the arm that joined them must be
rent in two, but yet it still held fast, and drew them, linked
together, far away across the sky. At first they did not know what to
make of this. Then Vincenza said: "That is you and I, Franz."

They laughed, and for the first time, they could not look at each
other, but gazed almost shyly into the distance. At the same time, each
felt the other's presence as something infinitely good and comforting.
Cain playfully stroked the girl's left hand, which lay on the seat,
with his right, and she permitted him and looked quietly down before
her. They might perhaps have sat so for a long while, if Vincenza had
not happened to look toward the entrance to the valley, where something
suddenly caught her attention. She looked more carefully. "Isn't
that--? Your father is over there, Franz," said she to her companion.
He stood up and recognized Fausch, who was standing close to the shore
and looking over toward them. He was not beckoning to them, but yet he
looked