eye was inflamed and moist with tears, and when he touched her hand it was again as hot as fire.
When the moon rose, Krista said to Venik that he never was to think of her again, and Venik to this replied, “Prythee, why should’st thou unlink thyself from me.”
But, as her only reply, Krista again laid her head on his bosom, and wept and sobbed as if she would unlink herself from him for ever. She kissed his face, his eyes, his forehead, his mouth—it was the first time that she had kissed him.
Then Venik said, “Krista be mine.”
On this Krista nestled yet closer to his side—but then of a sudden she rose and ran away to the wood.
Venik sat a long time alone, and it seemed to him as though he had seen happiness flutter round him, and as if he had actually caught hold of it. He held it in his hands, he looked for it and did not know what had become of it. After this he shouted, “Krista, Krista,” and when Krista responded not he went into the wood, gathered leaves and moss with both hands, carried them in his arms to the tree, and in its hollow trunk strewed a couch. Then he sat on the threshold, and was like a sentinel on guard.
There were no signs of Krista, but still it seemed to Venik as though she was there, and as if he saw her at every glance, and at every glance she seemed more
