Ah! how much Rudy carried with him, as he went home the next morning
over the mountains. Yes, there were three silver goblets, two very
fine rifles and a silver coffee pot, which one could use if one wished
to go to house-keeping; but he carried with him something far, far
more important, far mightier, or rather _that_ carried him over the
high mountains.

The weather was raw, moist and cold, grey and heavy; the clouds
lowered over the mountain-tops like mourning veils, and enveloped the
shining peaks of the rocks. The sound of the axe resounded from the
depths of the forest, and the trunks of the trees rolled down the
mountain, looking in the distance like slight sticks, but on
approaching them they were heavy trees, suitable for making masts. The
Lütschine rushed on with its monotonous sound, the wind blustered, the
clouds sailed by.

Suddenly a young girl approached Rudy, whom he had not noticed before;
not until she was beside him; she also was about crossing the
mountain. Her eyes had so peculiar a power that one was forced to look
into them; they were so strangely clear--clear as glass, so deep, so
fathomless--

"Have you a beloved one?" asked Rudy; for to have a beloved one was
everything to him.

"I have none!" said she, and laughed; but it was as though she was not
speaking the truth. "Do not let us take a by-way," continued she, "we
must go more to the left, that way is shorter!"

"Yes, so as to fall down a precipice!" said Rudy; "Do you know no