ness, of which I would have summoned all nature to be a witness, was flown away—perhaps for ever!
I felt myself overwhelmed with the bitterness of my disappoinied feelings. Where was I to seek Liesli? Where should I find her? Had she been here at all? Or had she perhaps concluded from my delay that I would not come? I put a thousand questions to myself, and was only the more chagrined and vexed, both with myself, with Liesli, and the anchorite.
At length, I resolved that the hermit, above all, should explain to me how he had yesterday obtained possession of the three gold pieces, though it could naturally be from no other person but Liesli herself. I then wished to interrogate him further respecting the young girl—to learn in what connection he stood towards her, and then, should I discover that he had any influence over her, I would candidly avow my views and intentions.
I hurried back to Shwytz, and from thence by Siti to the hermitage; the recluse, however, was not there. I awaited his return at the door of his cell the whole of the day without any nourishment, until late at night.
In vain! Completely exhausted and disappointed I returned home. The whole day long I had flattered myself with the certain hope, at the least rustling of the leaves, of beholding the light form of Liesli issue forth, but a thousand times was I deceived. Whoever has felt the torment of love, and has passed in his life but one hour in waiting for the object he adores, such a one alone can form an idea how tedious and how long this agonizing day appeared to me.
Late at night I repaired again to the church-yard. I entered the chapel where I had beheld Liesli for the first time, and then I visited the grave of her departed mother, but the object of my search was no where to be met with. The night was beautiful and serene; the evening dew refreshed the flowers with which the graves were bestrewed, and per-
