When the Richtberg lay close beneath them, Ruth sat down on a stone,
placing her flowers in her lap. Ulrich threw his in too, and, as the
bouquet grew, she held it towards him, and he thought it very pretty;
but she said, sighing:

"I wish roses grew in the forest; not common hedgeroses, but like those
in Portugal--full, red, and with the real perfume. There is nothing that
smells sweeter."

So it always was with the pair. Ruth far outstripped Ulrich in her
desires and wants, thus luring him to follow her.

"A rose!" repeated Ulrich. "How astonished you look!"

Her wish reminded him of the magic word she had mentioned the day before,
and they talked about it all the way home, Ulrich saying that he had
waked three times in the night on account of it. Ruth eagerly
interrupted him, exclaiming:

"I thought of it again too, and if any one would tell the what it was,
I should know what to wish now. I would not have a single human being
in the world except you and me, and my father and mother."

"And my little mother!" added Ulrich, earnestly.

"And your father, too!"

"Why, of course, he, too!" said the boy, as if to make hasty atonement
for his neglect.