call. I began to fear that you had jumped into the pond. You need not be
afraid, dear child, you need not run away; nobody can compel you to go
with your uncle."

"And who said that I did not want to go?" But suddenly a gust of wind
rustled loudly through the branches of the tree. "But I shall certainly
not go!" Amrei cried, holding fast to the tree with her hand.

"Come home--there's a severe storm coming up, and the wind will blow it
here directly," urged Marianne.

And so Amrei walked, almost staggered, back to the village with Black
Marianne. What did it mean--that people had seen her running through
field and forest? Or was it only Black Marianne's fancy?

The night was pitch dark, but now and then bright flashes of lightning
illuminated the houses, revealing them in a dazzling glare, which
blinded their eyes and compelled them to stand still. And when the
lightning disappeared, nothing more could be seen. In their own native
village the two seemed as if they were lost, as if they were in a
strange place, and they hastened onward with an uncertain step. The dust
whirled up in eddies, so that at times they could scarcely make any
progress; then, wet with perspiration, they struggled on again, until at
last they reached the shelter of their home, just as the first heavy
drops of rain began to fall. A gust of wind blew open the door, and
Amrei cried:

"Open, door!"

She was very likely thinking of a fairy tale, in which a magic door