bells can be heard on the shore of that lake, which the inhabitants down below are ringing for help.’
Did this tale occur to her now, because she herself was on the brink of ruin, and because she was harbouring in her heart love for a man who had been a traitor to her? Was that why her heart was beating so sadly, like the bells of the engulfed town? Fear and a horror hitherto unknown took possession of her; she had never been in the forests at midnight. Accustomed to houses surrounded by fields and gardens, she was not used to its mystery.
‘And yet I would a thousand times rather be in the forest alone at midnight, a thousand times rather serve the smugglers as a common carrier, than lower myself to be the footstool of an unjust man who persecutes and scorns a woman because she is steadfast,’ she repeated to herself over and over again, and then her fear and horror would yield to bitter resentment. Yet it was impossible now that she was alone in the world, and sadly wandering through the darkness, not to remember the joyful, happy day when she had flown on wings of love from her father’s house to that of her bridegroom to become an unspeakably happy, honoured, loved and loving bride. On that
