As she thus sat, with her eyes fixed mournfully upon the distant object
which was the roof of an elegant house, which was barely visible over
the brow of a hill, she was startled by the noise of approaching
footsteps. She had scarcely cast her mantle over her white shoulders,
which she had uncovered during her ablutions, when, to her great
astonishment, she discovered a stranger rapidly approaching towards her.
He was clothed in a light frock coat; a knapsack was fastened upon his
shoulders, and in his hand he swung a knotted stick. Nanna had never
before beheld a personage who resembled the stranger. His face, browned
in the sun, until it resembled that of a gipsy, wore an honest and frank
expression, and his dark curling hair, which fell in thick clusters from
his black felt hat, added to the pleasing aspect of his countenance.

Nanna, who at her first glance at the youth, had thought him a gipsy,
which wild tribe she greatly feared, was reassured by a second look.

The stranger, on his side, appeared greatly astonished at the sudden
appearance of the beautiful water nymph, for such a goddess Nanna much
resembled, as she stood, with her garments flowing gracefully around her
slight figure; her tiny white feet playing with the moist grass, and her
pale and mournful face, encircled with golden locks, that fell
negligently upon her white and well rounded shoulders.

The youth thus addressed her:

"Pardon me, lovely naiad. It appears that I have taken the wrong path,
although I supposed that I had chosen the right direction."

"Whither are you going?" inquired Nanna, in a voice sweet and melodious.