One afternoon in late autumn, a well-dressed old man walked down the sloping avenue outside the city. It seemed that he was going home after a walk; Already full of dust.He held a slender golden-headed rattan cane under his armpit, and his expression was serene. Sometimes he looked at the surrounding scenery, and sometimes he looked at the city in front of the mountain lying quietly in the afterglow of the sunset. He had silver hair all over his head, but his eyes were strange Still dark, just like the past youth, now all hidden in his eyes.He looked rather like a stranger; passers-by rarely greeted him, although they often couldn't help looking into the old man's serious eyes.Finally, he stopped in front of a tall gabled building, turned around and looked at the city below, and then stepped into the hall.After the doorbell rang, the green curtain of a peephole in the room that could be seen in the hall was drawn back, revealing the face of an old woman.The old man raised his cane to salute her. "Why aren't the lights on!" he said with a slight southern accent; the housekeeper lowered the curtain over the peephole.The old man walked into a wide hallway, came to a living room with various porcelain vases in large oak cabinets on the four walls, passed through a door directly opposite, and entered a small corridor, where there was a narrow staircase leading to Go to the bedrooms on the back floor.He slowly climbed up the stairs, opened a door, and walked into a modest room.The room was comfortable and quiet, one wall was almost covered by bookshelves, portraits and landscapes hung on the other; on a table covered with a green tablecloth, a few open books were randomly spread out. A book was open; in front of the table stood a solid, heavy armchair with a red velvet cushion.The old man put his hat and cane in the corner of the room, and then sat down in the armchair, holding one hand with the other, as if he was tired from walking and wanted to rest.As he sat like this, the sky gradually became dark; finally, the moonlight shone into the room through the glass window and fell on the oil painting on the wall; the bright moonlight moved slowly, and the old man's eyes followed it bit by bit.At this moment, the moonlight fell on a small portrait in a very plain black frame. "Elizabeth!" the old man called out softly; and as soon as the call came out, the times he lived in changed—he was back to his boyhood.
In a blink of an eye, a cute little girl ran towards him.Her name was Elizabeth, and she looked about five years old; he himself was twice her age.The little girl wore a red silk scarf around her neck, which set off her brown eyes even more beautifully.
"Reinhard," she bit, "we're on holiday! We're on holiday! No school today, no school tomorrow."
Reinhard quickly put the stone slab under his arm behind the door, and the two children rushed into the garden in front of the house, passed through the garden gate, and ran to the grass in the wild.This sudden vacation really surprised them both.With the help of Elisabeth, Reinhard has built a small house here with turf, and they plan to spend the summer evening in it; but there is still a lack of benches to sit on.Reinhard set to work at once; nails, willow heads, and the necessary planks were ready anyway.In the meantime, Elizabeth walked along the earth bank, picking up ring-shaped seeds of wild mallow as she walked, and pocketing them in her apron for future necklaces and so on.Although Reinhard broke and bent a lot of nails, he finally made the bench; when he was done and ran out onto the sunny meadow, the little girl was already walking on the other end of the meadow far away from him.
"Elizabeth!" he called, "Elizabeth!" and the girl came running, her curls blowing in the wind. "Quick," said he, "our house is all done. Look how hot you're running; hurry in, and we can sit on the new benches. I'll tell you a story."
Then the two of them got into the hut and sat on the freshly nailed stool.Elisabeth took mallow seeds from her apron and strung them on a long thread; and Reinhard began the story:
"Once upon a time, there were three spinning girls..."
"Well," interrupted Elizabeth, "I've learned it by heart; you shouldn't keep telling the same story."
Reinhard had to leave the story of the three spinning girls behind and tell the story of a poor man thrown into a lion's den.
"...it's night now," he said, "do you know? It's pitch black all around, and the lions are asleep. But from time to time, they yawn and stick out their red tongues in their sleep; the man Trembling with fright, he thought it was almost dawn. At this moment, his surroundings suddenly became bright, and when he looked up, an angel stood in front of him. The angel waved to him, and then walked straight into the rock gone."
Elizabeth listened intently. "An angel?" she asked. "Should he have wings?"
"It's just a story," Reinhard replied, "actually there are no angels at all."
"Ah, bah, Reinhard!" said the girl, looking blankly into his face.After Reinhard gave her an unhappy look, she asked timidly again: "Why do they always say that? Mom, aunt, and at school?"
"I don't know that," he replied.
"But tell me," Elizabeth asked again, "are there no lions?"
"Lions? Are there any lions? Yes, in India; pagan priests there hang them on the front of their wagons and drive them across the desert. When I'm older, I'm going to see for myself. We're a thousand times nicer here; there's no winter at all. You've got to come with me, too. Will you?"
"Yes," replied Elizabeth, "but mother must go, too, and your mother."
"No," Reinhard said, "they were too old to go with them then."
"But I'm not allowed to go out alone!"
"They will allow it; you will be my wife then, and no one else can order you."
"But my mother will cry!"
"Are we going to come back?" Reinhard became anxious, "You just say, would you like to go with me? If not, I will go alone, and I will never come back."
The little girl almost didn't cry. "Don't be so angry," she said, "I'll go to India with you."
Reinhard was so happy that he grabbed the girl's hands and dragged her to the grass. "Go to India! Go to India!" he sang, pulling the little girl around in a circle, making the red silk scarf around her neck flutter.While singing and spinning, he suddenly let go of the little girl's hand and said solemnly: "No, I can't go; you don't have the courage."
"Elisabeth! Reinhard!" At this moment, the voices of the family came from the garden gate.
"Here it is! Here it is!" replied the children, holding hands as they ran home.
The two children live together like this; he thinks she is often too quiet, and she thinks he is often too impatient; but because of this, neither of them can do without the other, and they almost always play together in their spare time. In my mother's small house, in the fields and woods in summer.Once, Elizabeth was scolded by the teacher, and Reinhard who stood by was so angry that he threw the slate on the table, trying to direct the teacher's anger to himself.The teacher didn't notice his move.But this time, Reinhard no longer listened carefully to the geography class, but wrote a long poem in class.In the poem he compares himself to a young eagle, the teacher to a gray crow, and Elizabeth to a white dove; Revenge.With tears in his eyes, the young poet became a very, very noble man in his own imagination.When I got home, I found a small hardcover book with sheepskin, and on the first few pages, I neatly copied my first poem.Soon, he transferred to another school and formed new friendships with boys of the same age there, but this did not affect his relationship with Elizabeth.From the fairy tales he told her again and again in the past, now he writes down the ones she likes the most. He writes and often hopes to add some of his own ideas; but he doesn’t know why he can’t always get his wish , so I had no choice but to write it down as I heard it.They were written and given to Elizabeth; Elizabeth kept them in a drawer of her little chest of drawers.She often read these stories to her mother in the evenings in his presence; Reinhard listened with great relief.
Seven years have passed.Reinhard had to leave his hometown in order to go to school.Elisabeth could not imagine that she would not see Reinhard at all for some time now.To her delight, he told her one day that he would write the fairy tales for her as before, and send them to her in a letter to his mother; she, too, would have to write back and tell him if she liked them.The day of departure was in sight; but before that, some more poems were added to the little parchment-bound book, which remained a secret to Elizabeth, and although the book existed because of her, it gradually became half full. Most of Ben's poems are produced because of her.
In June, the day before Reinhard left home, family and friends decided to get together again and organized an outing to the nearby forest.We first took an hour's car to the edge of the woods; then we unloaded the food baskets from the car and continued on foot.The first thing to do was to go through a fir forest; the air was cool, the light was dim, and the ground was strewn with thin fir needles.After walking for about half an hour, I left the dark maple forest and came to a bright and open beech forest; On the tree, a little squirrel kept jumping from one branch to another.In a clearing, the crowns of the ancient camphor trees grew together to form a transparent dome made of green leaves, and everyone stopped under it.Elizabeth's mother uncovers a basket of food; an old gentleman volunteers to be the bread steward.
"Come here all of you, boys!" he yelled. "Remember what I'm about to tell you. Now you're each given two loaves of bread for breakfast, the butter is left at home, and you must find the seasoning yourself. The woods are plentiful with hay and wheat, of course, as long as For whoever can find them. Whoever is clumsy and incompetent has to eat his bread; it's the same everywhere in life. Do you understand me?"
"Understood!" The young people replied in unison.
"Okay," said the old gentleman, "but, you see, there's still more under me. We old people have had enough running around in our lives, and now we stay at home, that is, under the big trees here, Peel the potatoes, light the fire, set the table, and boil the eggs until twelve o'clock. For this, each of you must give us half of the wheat you gather, so that we can use some of the food. Here, everyone Run things, honestly bring back your harvest!"
Young people put on all kinds of naughty looks.
"Wait!" the old gentleman yelled again. "Perhaps I don't need to tell you that whoever finds nothing doesn't have to pay; but your little brains must remember it well, so that he can't get anything from us old people. .Well, you have already received enough lessons today; if you can find Caohai again, you will have a good life."
The young people also feel that they have learned enough lessons and have begun to leave this place in pairs.
"Come on, Elisabeth," said Reinhard, "I know a place with a lot of strawberries; you mustn't eat all the bread."
Elizabeth knotted the green ribbon of her straw hat and held it on her wrist.
"Well, come on," she said, "here's our basket."
The two immediately walked into the woods, farther and farther away, deeper and deeper; the surroundings were damp and dark, without a ray of sunlight, and heard no sound, except for the occasional chirping of falcons in the invisible sky above their heads.Then there was another dense and impassable thicket before him, and Reinhard had to go ahead, breaking a twig here, moving a wild vine there.After a while, he heard Elizabeth calling his name behind his back, so he turned his head. "Reinhard!" she shouted. "Wait for me, Reinhard!" Reinhard couldn't see her; when he looked closely, he found that she was still entangled with some young trees in the distance, and her immature little brain could only barely A little above the bushy ferns.He had no choice but to go back again, and led her out from the messy thorns and bushes, to a clearing in the forest; there were lonely wild flowers blooming here, and blue butterflies fluttered among the flowers.Reinhard wiped the sweaty hair from her flushed little face and tried to put the straw hat on her, but Elisabeth refused; he asked her later, and she finally gave her permission.
"But where are your strawberries?" At the end, she stopped and took a deep breath and asked.
"They used to grow here," Reinhard replied. "Maybe the toads got us first, or weasels or elves or something."
"Surely," said Elizabeth, "the leaves are still here; just don't mention the elves. Come on, I'm not a bit tired; let's go on looking."
A brook ran before them; across the stream was the forest.Reinhard picked up Elizabeth and waded to the other side.After walking for a while, the two of them came out of the gloomy dense forest and came to a clearing in the forest.
"There must be strawberries here," said the girl, "the air is sweet and sweet."
The two searched on the sunny grass, but they didn't find anything.
"No," Reinhard said, "it's just the smell of weeds."
Here and there clumps of raspberry and holly grew, and the gaps between them were filled with mugwort and shallow green grass, which filled the air with its strong fragrance.
"It's very quiet," said Elizabeth. "Where are the others?"
It never occurred to Reinhard to go back. "Wait, see where the wind is blowing from?" He said, raising his hands in the air, but there was no wind.
"Be quiet," said Elizabeth, "I think I hear them talking. Shout that way."
Reinhard put his hands over his mouth and shouted, "Hey, come here!"
"Come here!" The other side responded.
"They answered!" Elizabeth clapped her hands happily.
"No, not even a shadow, it's just an echo."
Elizabeth took his hand. "I'm afraid!" she said.
"No," Reinhard told her, "there's nothing to be afraid of. It's beautiful here. Sit in the shade over there; let's rest. We'll find someone else."
Elisabeth sat down in the shade of a leafy beech tree and listened attentively; Reinhard also sat down on a stump a few steps away from her and watched the girl silently.The sun was shining directly, and it was the hottest time at noon; some small blue flies flapped their wings and settled in the air, giving off golden flashes under the sunlight; From the depths of the dense forest came the chirping of woodpeckers tapping on tree trunks, as well as the chirping of other birds that lived in the forest.
"Listen!" said the girl suddenly. "The bell is ringing."
"Where?" asked the boy.
"Behind us. Do you hear me? It's noon now."
"Then the city is behind us; just keep going in that direction, and you're sure to meet other people."
The two set off on their way home, and it was easy to find another; Elizabeth was very tired.Finally, everyone's laughter came from among the trees, and after a while, they saw the dazzling white cloth sheet spread on the floor as a dining table, and there were countless strawberries piled on it.The old gentleman, with a napkin tucked in the buttonhole of his jacket, was chopping a piece of roast meat vigorously as he continued his moral speech to the youngsters.
"Look, here comes the ducker," cried the young men in unison when they saw Reinhard and Elisabeth belatedly coming from the woods.
"Please!" the old gentleman called to them both. "Shake out what's in the towel and what's in the hat, and pour it out! Let's see what you two find."
"Found hunger and thirst!" replied Reinhard.
"If that's all," said the old gentleman, holding up a bowlful of roasts to them, "you'll have to leave it to you two to enjoy. You know our agreement; idlers are not kept here." Even so, he still could not stand up to repeated entreaties.Then supper was served; and as they ate, they all listened to the singing of the thrushes brought from the juniper bushes.
And so the day passed.Having said that, Reinhard still found something; although it was not grass, it also grew in the forest.When he got home, he wrote in his exquisite notebook:
In this way, she was not just a little girl under his protection; she had become for him the embodiment of all the beautiful and charming emotions of his young life.
Christmas is here.In the afternoon, Reinhard sat with several university students at an old oak table in the cellar hotel of the town hall.The lamps on the wall were on; the cellar had grown dark.But the guests didn't spend a lot of money, so several waiters had to stand leaning against the wall pillars.In a corner sat an old man playing the violin and a handsome gypsy girl playing the harpsichord; they also held their instruments in their arms and looked listlessly ahead.
From the table where the college students were sitting came the sound of incense being uncorked. "Drink, my darling!" A young man with the appearance of a rich man said loudly, handing a full glass of wine to the girl's lips.
"I don't want to drink," answered the girl, still sitting motionless.
"Then let's sing a song!" Mr. Kuo yelled, throwing a silver coin into her arms at the same time.The girl slowly raised her hand to comb her black hair, while the old man whispered something in her ear; she raised her head and rested her chin on the eight-stringed instrument. "I don't sing for that man," she said.
Reinhard stood up with a glass of wine and walked up to her.
"What do you want?" the girl asked stubbornly.
"Want to see your eyes."
"What have my eyes to do with you?"
Reinhard looked down at her with burning eyes. "I know they are dishonest!" The girl rested her chin on her hand and looked at him vigilantly.Reinhard raised his glass to his lips. "For your beautiful wicked eyes!" he said; and took a sip of his wine.
The girl smiled and turned her head abruptly. "Give it to me!" she said, looking straight into Reinhard's eyes with her beautiful black eyes, and slowly drank what was left in the glass.Then she strikes a chord and sings in a deep, soulful voice:
The fiddler was playing a quick end, and there was another person at the table of the college students.
"Reinhard," he said, "I went to ask you out just now, and you have gone. Do you know that the Holy Child has come to your house."
"Holy Child?" Reinhard asked. "He won't come to me."
"Look what you say! Your house smells of maple boughs and gingerbread."
Reinhard put down his wine glass and grabbed his hat.
"What are you going to do?" asked the girl.
"I'll come as I go."
The girl wrinkled her forehead. "Stay!" she begged softly, looking at him kindly.
Reinhard hesitated. "No," he said.
The gypsy girl smiled and kicked him with her toe.
"Go!" she said. "You're no good; you're all no good!"
When she turned away, Reinhard had slowly climbed the cellar steps.
It was dusk in the street; the cold winter air was cooling his burning brow.From the windows here and there shone the bright light of the Christmas tree, and now and then the sound of the flute and trumpet could be heard in the house, mingled with the laughter of the children.Crowds of waifs ran from house to house, or climbed over the banisters of the steps, and peeked in the windows at all that was good and good that they could not enjoy.Sometimes a door would open suddenly, and the sound of scolding would drive the little intruders away from the bright front of the house and into the dark alley.In another house an old Christmas Eve carol might be being sung; and there was clearly a maiden's clear voice in it.Reinhard turned a deaf ear to it, and hurried from one street to another, everything in front of him flashed by.Approaching the dormitory, it was completely dark; he staggered up the stairs and stepped into his room.There was a sweet smell in his face, just like when he walked into the house furnished by his mother on Christmas Eve, it immediately aroused a ray of nostalgia in his heart.He lit the lamp with trembling hands, and at a glance saw a large package on the table; unwrapped the package, and rolled out the brown gingerbread he was very familiar with for the holidays, some of which had his name on it with sugar syrup. One letter; who but Elizabeth would do that!Next came a little bag containing a finely embroidered blouse; some handkerchiefs and cuffs, and finally some letters from the mother and Elizabeth.Elizabeth wrote:
These beautiful candy letters will probably tell you who helped make these gingerbread cookies; the same person who embroidered your cuffs.Christmas Eve is going to be very deserted here here; Mother always picks up the spinning wheel in the corner at half-past nine; it's very lonely without you here this winter.The plum finch you gave me also died last Sunday; and I wept bitterly, for I have taken good care of it.In the afternoon, as soon as the sun shone down on its cage, the little bird sang; and, you know, when he sang loudly, mother used to put a piece of cloth over the cage to keep him from squeaking.Now the room is quieter; only your old friend Ehrlich now visits us now and then.I remember you saying once that he was like the brown coat he had on.I can't help but think of your words every time he steps through the door, it's so ridiculous.But you mustn't tell my mother about it, she'll probably be upset. —Guess what I gave your mother for Christmas?Can't guess?It's me!Ehrlich drew me a charcoal portrait; I couldn't help it, and I sat in front of him three times, each time for a full hour.I'm sick of having a stranger staring at my face like that, lo and behold.I wouldn't have liked to do it, but mother kept nagging on and on about how it would make good Mrs. Werner happy as hell.
But you didn't keep your word, Reinhard.You didn't send me fairy tales.I often fantasize about you to your mother; she always says that you have so many things to do now that you can't take care of such trifles.
But I still don't believe it; I think there must be another reason.
Then Reinhard read his mother's letter again; having read both letters, he slowly folded them up again and put them aside.At this moment, a strong sense of nostalgia came over him, causing him to pace up and down the room for a long time, muttering in a low voice, and at the end, mumbled the following poem:
Then he went to the desk, took some money and went out into the street again.The streets were much quieter now; the Christmas tree lights were out, and the waifs were no longer running around in groups.The night wind blows through the empty streets and alleys, the old and the young are reunited in their homes; the second stage of Christmas Eve has begun.
Reinhard walked near the cellar hotel of the town hall and heard the singing of the gypsy girl and the accompaniment of the violin from below; at this moment the cellar door slammed, and a figure staggered along the wide Climb up the stone steps.Reinhard stepped into the shadow of the house, walked quickly, and stepped into a brightly lit jewelry store after a while.He bought a small red coral cross in the store, and then returned the same way.
Not far from the dormitory, he saw a ragged little girl standing in front of the gate of a building, desperately trying to open the door. "Shall I help you?" he asked.The little girl didn't say anything, just let go of the heavy doorknob.Reinhard had already opened the door for her, but said: "No, you will be picked up; come with me! I will give you gingerbread for Christmas." Then he closed the door again and took the little girl hand; the little girl followed him quietly and came to his room.
The lamp that he hadn't blown out when he went out was still on. "Here, here are the gingerbreads," he said, pouring half of his treasure into the little girl's apron, but he was reluctant to give her any one with sugar letters on it. "Go home now, and give some to your mother." The little girl looked up at him timidly; such a kind gentleman was rare to her, and she was completely bewildered.Reinharda opened the door and held the lamp to light the stairs for her, and the little one ran down the stairs with the gingerbread and flew home like a bird.
Reinhard stoked the fire in the fireplace, put the dusty inkwell on the table, and sat down to write letters, to his mother, and to Elizabeth, all through the night.The rest of the Christmas cake lay motionless beside him; but the cuffs Elizabeth had sewed were buttoned up, matching his white velvet coat perfectly.He just sat and wrote and wrote, until the winter sun shone on the frosted glass window, and a pale and serious face was reflected in the mirror opposite him.
When Easter came, Reinhard returned to his hometown.Early the next morning after returning home, he went to see Elizabeth. "Look how big you have grown!" he said to the girl who was running towards him with a smile.The charming and slender girl blushed, but she didn't say anything; he took her outstretched hand in welcome, and she gently wanted to withdraw it.He looked at her inexplicably; she had never been like this before; as if something had grown strange between them.He had lived at home for some time, and visited her every day, but the situation remained the same.Whenever the two of them were alone, the conversation was often interrupted, which made Reinhard feel strangely uncomfortable, so he had to try to find something to say.As a diversion during the holidays, he taught Elizabeth the knowledge of botany which he had diligently acquired during the first few months of college.Elizabeth has been used to obeying him since she was a child, and she is also very studious, so she happily followed suit.Now the two of them go hiking in the fields or wilderness several times a week, and bring back green specimen boxes full of flowers and plants at noon; Reinhard will go to Elizabeth's house again a few hours later, and collect together with her Incoming specimens were sorted.
One afternoon, Reinhard stepped into the basement again, ready to organize the specimens with her.Meanwhile Elizabeth was standing at the window, throwing some fresh wisps of weed over a gilded birdcage he had never seen before.A canary squatted in the cage, flapping its wings, and twittering, pecking grass from Elizabeth's fingers.Back then, Reinhard's bird hung here too.
"Couldn't it be that my poor plum finch died and became a canary bird?" he asked enthusiastically.
"The sparrow doesn't do that," said the mother, spinning in the armchair. "It was sent from his manor by your friend Ehrlich at noon today for Elizabeth."
"From which estate?"
"You don't know yet?"
"what do you know?"
"A month ago, Ehrlich inherited his father's second estate on the banks of Immensee, didn't you know?"
"You never mentioned that to me at all."
"Hey," said Elizabeth's mother, "haven't you never asked about your friend yourself? He's such a lovely and sensible young man."
Mother went out to make coffee; Elisabeth turned her back on Reinhard, where she continued to build an arbor for her birds. "I'm sorry, just wait a moment," she said, "I'll be fine soon." Reinhard did not answer as usual, and she turned her head in surprise.Suddenly there was a distress in his eyes that she had never seen before.
"Are you uncomfortable, Reinhard?" she asked, approaching him.
"Me?" he asked absently, staring blankly into hers.
"Look at your sullen look."
"Elizabeth," he said, "I hate the yellow bird."
Elizabeth stared at him blankly, not understanding what was going on. "You're a queer man," she said.
He seized her hands; she let him hold them.Mother came in again at once.
After drinking coffee, my mother sat down to lead the line; Reinhard and Elisabeth went into the next room to sort out their specimens.They counted the pistils, carefully unfolded the leaves and petals, and then selected two of each flower, pressed them into a large folio book, and let them dry slowly.It was a sunny afternoon, and all was quiet; the only thing to be heard was the humming of the mother's spinning wheel in the next room, and the muffled voice of Reinhard, who was either telling Elis what the cabbage plants belonged to, Or correct her pronunciation of Latin plant names.
"The only thing I'm missing is lily of the valley," Elizabeth said after sorting out all the collected plants.
Reinhard took out a small white book with a sheepskin cover from his pocket, and said, "Here is a lily of the valley, here you are," taking the half-dried flower out of the book.
Elizabeth found that the pages of the book were filled with words, so she asked, "Are you making up fairy tales again?"
"Not fairy tales," he replied, handing her the book.
The book is full of poems, most of which are no more than one page long.Elizabeth turned the pages as if reading only the titles: "When She Was Scolded by the Teacher," "They Lost Their Way in the Wood," "Fairy Tales Told at Easter," "When She wrote to me for the first time", and so on, almost all of these titles.Reinhard looked at her carefully, and found that when she turned over, a little blush appeared on her bright little face, and finally her entire face turned red.He wanted to look into her eyes; Elizabeth silently put Ben in front of him without raising her head.
"Don't pay me back like this!" he said.
She pulled a brown sprig from the herbarium. "I'll put your favorite flower in it," she said, passing the book into his hand.
Soon came the last day of winter vacation; and then came the morning of Reinhard's departure.Elizabeth, with her mother's permission, saw her friend off at a coach station a few streets away.When they reached the gate, Reinhard held out his arm for Elisabeth; he walked silently beside the slender girl.He was getting closer to the destination, and the long-term separation was in front of him, and he felt more and more in his heart that he had to tell her something that was closely related to the full value of his future life and all happiness, but he just wanted to Not one word that would set him free.He became frightened, and his steps slowed down more and more slowly.
"You will be late," said Elizabeth. "The clocks at Our Lady's Church have struck ten."
But he still couldn't get up.Finally, he managed to stammer and speak:
"Elizabeth, you will not see me for two years. When I come back, will you like me as much as you do now?"
She nodded and looked at him kindly.
"I defended you," she said after a pause.
"Defended me? Before whom?"
"In front of my mother. We talked about you for a long time after you left yesterday. She said you're not as good as you were."
Reinhard was silent for a while, then took her hand, looked solemnly into her childlike eyes, and said:
"I'm as good as ever. Believe me! Do you believe it, Elizabeth?"
"Well," she replied.Then, he let go of her hand, quickened his pace, and walked through the last street.The time of parting was getting closer, his face became more and more cheerful, and his steps were so fast that the girl could hardly keep up.
"What's the matter with you, Reinhard?" she asked.
"I have a secret, a good secret!" he said, looking at her with bright eyes. "Two years from now, when I come back, you'll know."
While they were talking, they had reached the stagecoach; there was just enough time.Reinhard took the girl's hand again. "Good-bye!" he said. "Take care, Elizabeth. Don't forget me!"
The girl shook her head. "Goodbye!" she said.Reinhard got into the cart and the horse started to walk.
As the stagecoach rolled round the corner, he took a last look at the lovely figure of the girl, who was walking slowly home.
One night almost two years later, Reinhard was sitting in front of a lamp with a lot of papers and books piled on the table.He is waiting for a friend to come and do homework with him.At this moment someone came upstairs. "Come in!" But it turned out to be the landlady. “有您一封信，魏尔纳先生！”说完她就走了。
莱因哈德从上次回家以后没再写信给伊莉莎白，从伊莉莎白那儿也从未收到信。这封信也不是她来的；信上是他母亲的笔迹。莱因哈德拆开信来开始念，马上就念到了下面一段：
在你这样的年龄，我亲爱的孩子，真是一年跟一年都不一样，因为青年时代绝不会变得贫乏单调的。我们这里也起了些变化；要是我一向对你了解得不错，你乍一听见想必会难过的。昨天，埃利希到底还是得到了伊莉莎白的同意；近三个月来，他已两次向她求婚，两次都遭到了拒绝。伊莉莎白一直下不了决心，可她现在毕竟还是这么做了。她仍然非常非常年轻啊。婚礼很快就要举行，到时候她母亲也要跟他们一块儿搬走。
又过了许多年。一个暖和的春天的下午，在一条倾斜的洒满树荫的林间小道上，馒步走下来一位面色黝黑、健康结实的年轻人。他那一对严肃的灰眼睛急切地张望远方，像是期待着这条单调的路终于会发生变化，而这变化却迟迟不肯到来似的。终于从坡下慢慢爬上来一辆大车。
“喂！老乡，”旅行者大声招呼走在车旁的农民，“这是到茵梦潮去的路吗？”
“没错儿，一直走，”农民回答，同时提了提头上的圆帽子。
“离这里还远吗？”
“先生，您已到了眼前。不消半袋烟工夫，您就走近湖边了；东家的住宅紧挨在湖边上。”
农民赶着车过去了；旅行者加快脚步，匆匆从树林中穿过。一刻钟后，左手边的树荫突然消失；小路绕上一座山坡，坡前长着一些树梢差点儿跟坡顶一般高的百年老橡树；越过树梢再往前看，便是一个豁然开朗的、阳光明媚的天地。脚下远远地躺着一片湖水，宁静，湛蓝，四周几乎全让阳光朗照的绿树包围着；树林只在一个地方留着豁口，展现出背后远远的一带青山。正对面的绿色树林中间，像撒上了雪似的一片洁白；那是果树正在开花。在高高的湖岸上，耸立着一座别墅，白墙红瓦，给绿叶衬着显得格外悦目。一只鹳鸟从烟囱上飞起来，在湖面上慢慢盘旋。
“茵梦湖！”旅行者失声呼出。他仿佛已经到了目的地似的，因为他一动不动地站着，视线越过脚下的树梢，久久眺望那在平明如镜的湖水中轻轻晃动着别墅倒影的地方。后来，他突然又开始前进。
现在道路陡直地通向山下，下边的橡树很快又投下绿荫，但同时也把面前的湖给遮住了；只偶尔在树枝的空隙里，才能看见一点水光。不一会儿又登上一座缓坡，两边的树林一下子退去了，取而代之的是一个个牵满葡萄藤的小丘，夹道两边还有一些开了花的果树；只见成群的蜜蜂在花间钻来钻去，营营嗡嗡。一个穿着棕色大衣的很有气派的男子迎面走来，快到旅行者面前时突然挥动帽子，声音洪亮地叫道：
“欢迎，欢迎，莱因哈德，好朋友！欢迎你到我们茵梦湖的庄上来！”
“你好，埃利希，感谢你来欢迎我！”对方回答。
接着两人就走到一块儿，相互握手。
“可这真是你吗？”埃利希在细细地端详了他老同学那严肃的面孔后说。
“当然是我，埃利希；你也是老样子，只不过看上去比先前更加快活就是了。”
一听这话，埃利希笑逐颜开，模样显得越发快活。“是的，亲爱的莱因哈德，”他一边说，一边又握了握老朋友的手。“你知道，在上次分手以后，我就办成功了那件大事。”随后他搓着手，兴高采烈地嚷道：“这将是一个意外！她想不到你会来，万万想不到！”
“一个意外？”莱因哈德问，“对谁是个意外？”
“伊莉莎白呀。”
“伊莉莎白！怎么，你还没告诉她我要来吗？”
“一个字也没告诉，亲爱的莱因哈德；她想不到你来，她母亲也想不到你来。我完全是偷偷写信邀请你的，这样她会更加喜出望外。你了解，我这人总有一些自己的打算。”
莱因哈德沉思起来；越走近别墅，他觉得呼吸也越困难。路左边的葡萄园不见了，变成了一片很大的菜圃，一直延伸到湖岸边。鹳鸟已经落到地上，正在菜畦间大模大样地踅来踅去。“唬！”埃利希喝道，同时拍着手，“这长脚杆的埃及佬，它又来偷我的豌豆尖啦！”鹳鸟不慌不忙地飞去，落在菜圃尽头一幢新建的房子上；这幢房子的墙壁全让人工编结的桃树和杏树的枝条盖住了。
“那是酿酒房，”埃利希说，“是我两年前才盖的。农庄的房子先父已添盖成了；住宅更是在我祖父手上建好的。如此一点一点地继续增加嘛。”
说话间，两人已走到一块大空场上；空场两边是农庄的房子，前面则为庄主的住宅，住宅两翼紧接两道高高的院墙，院墙背后耸立着一排排枝叶繁茂的紫杉，这儿那儿还有一树树盛开的丁香从墙头探出脑袋。一些在烈日下干活儿而满脸热汗的汉子走过空场，向两位朋友行礼问安；埃利希则一会儿向这个发发指示，一会儿向那个问问情况。随后他们走到住宅前，跨进一道高敞凉爽的走廊，在走廊尽头再转入左边一条光线睹一点的过道。在这儿埃利希打开一扇门，两人便进了一间宽大的花厅。花厅两侧相对着的窗户上都爬满藤萝，使厅里充满一片朦胧的绿意；正中两扇高大的玻璃门却敞开着，不但引进来充足的春天的阳光，而且能让人观赏前面的花园；只见园内布置着一座座圆形的花坛，仁立着一排排高高的树篱，中间伸展着一条笔直的大路，顺着这条路望去，就能看见湖水和对面更远处的树林。两个朋友一跨进厅中，迎面便拂来一股扑鼻的香风。
在花厅门前的阳台上，坐着一位身着白裙的身材仍如少女的夫人。她站起身，迎着他俩走来，可半道上却像脚下生了根似地站住了，两眼呆呆地一眨不眨地盯着客人。他微笑着向她伸过手去。
“莱因哈德！”她叫起来，“莱因哈德！我的上帝，真是你！我们可有好久不见了。”
“是的，好久不见了，”他应着，除此再也说不出话；他一听见她的声音，心上就感到一阵隐隐的疼痛；再抬眼看她，她仍那么亭亭立在他的面前，几年前在故乡对她道再见的时候，她不也是这个样子吗？
埃利希停在厅门旁，眉飞色舞。
“喏，伊莉莎白，怎么样？”他说，“想不到吧！永远也想不到吧！”
伊莉莎白亲切地望着他。“你太好了，埃利希！”她说。
他温柔地握着妻子的小手。“这会儿咱们总算把他给逮住啦，”埃利希说，“咱们不会马上放他走的。他在外面流浪得太久了，咱们要让他重新习惯自己的故乡。你瞧，模样这么高雅，简直叫人认不出来喽。”
伊莉莎白羞怯地瞟了莱因哈德的脸一眼。“只是我们好久不在一起的缘故，”莱因哈德说。
这当儿，伊莉莎白的母亲胳臂上挎着个装钥匙的小篮子，来到厅中。
“魏尔纳先生！”她发现莱因哈德后说，“哎哎，真想不到，稀客稀客。”
接着，便一问一答，顺利地寒暄开了。母女俩坐下来做她们的针线活儿；莱因哈德享用着为他准备的饮料；埃利希点燃他那只结实的海泡石烟斗，一边坐在客人身旁吐烟圈儿，一边和他谈话。
第二天，莱因哈德便由埃利希领着各处走走，去看了田地、葡萄园、园以及酿酒房。一切都管理得井井有条；在地头和酿酒锅旁工作的人全都有着健康和满意的脸色。中午全家总聚在花厅里，其它时间则看主人的困与忙，也或多或少地共同度过；只有晚饭前的几个钟头和上午，莱因哈德才呆在房间里工作。多年来，他就致力于按集所能得到的流传民间的歌谣。如今他正着手整理自己的珍藏，打算可能的话在附近一带再采录一些，使其更加丰富。伊莉莎白不论何时总是那么温柔，亲切；埃利希始终如一的关怀，使她报以一种近乎于谦卑的感激；莱因哈德有时也不免想，像伊莉莎白以前那样活泼的小女孩，似乎不应该变成这么一位沉静的妻子。
从到庄上的第二天起，莱因哈德傍晚总要沿着湖滨散步。湖滨的小路刚好紧贴在花园下边；在花园尽头一个突出的墙堵上，高高的白桦树下立着一条长凳。伊莉莎白的母亲唤它做“黄昏凳”，因为那地方正对着西边，黄昏时分她们常坐在那儿看落日。一天傍晚，莱因哈德沿湖滨小路散步回来，突然遭到阵雨袭击，急急忙忙躲到湖边上的一株菩提树下，但大颗大颗的雨点很快穿过叶簇，淋得他一身透湿。他索性走进雨中，继续循原路而回。天完全黑了，雨下得也越来越密。在快到“黄昏凳”的当儿，他觉得在斑驳闪亮的白烨树干中间，有一个白衣女子的身影依稀可辨。那女子一动不动地站着；走近一点，莱因哈德似乎看出她的脸是朝着他的，好像正在等候什么人。他相信这是伊莉莎白。可当他加快脚步，想赶到她跟前，然后和她一起穿过花园回房去时，她却慢慢转过身，消失在黑暗的小径中。他莫名其妙，可又有些生伊莉莎白的气；不过，他怀疑这是否就是她；他没勇气问伊莉莎白，是的，他甚至在回屋时没穿过花厅，生怕看见她会从通花园的门走进来。
几天以后的傍晚，全家人又跟往常这时候一样聚在花厅里。厅门大大敞开着，夕阳已经沉落到湖对岸的树林后面，天马上就要黑了。
大伙儿请求某因哈德，要他念一念今天下午刚从一位住在乡下的朋友那儿收到的几首民歌。他于是走回房去，不一会儿就拿了个一页一页都像抄写得挺整洁的纸卷儿来。
大伙儿坐到桌旁，伊莉莎白坐在莱因哈德身边。
“咱们碰运气吧，”他说，“我自己都还没念过哩。”
伊莉莎白打开了纸卷儿。“这儿有谱，”她说，“因此你得唱，莱因哈德。”
莱因哈德一上来念了几首提罗儿山区的民谣，念着念着不时也哼出几节诙谐的曲调。所有人的兴致都渐渐高了。
“这些歌是谁作的呢，这样美？”伊莉莎白问。
“哎，”埃利希说，“一听不就听出来了嘛，还不是小裁缝，小理发匠，以及诸如此类的乐天的下等人。”
莱因哈德却讲：“它们压根儿不是作的；它们自行生长，从空中掉下来，像游丝一般飞过大地，飞到这儿，飞到那儿，成千上万个地方的人都在同时唱着它们。在这些歌谣中我们能够找到我们自己的经历和痛苦，仿佛我们大家都参加了它们的编写似的。”
他抽出另一页来念道：
“我站在高高的山上……”
“我会这首歌！”伊莉莎白嚷起来。“唱吧，莱因哈德，我来和你。”接着，他们便唱起来；这首歌的曲调是如此神奇，叫你简直不相信是出自人们的思想。伊莉莎白以自己微带沙哑的女低音为莱因哈德的男高音伴唱。
母亲坐在一旁起劲地做着针线。埃利希两手握在一起，凝神地听着。歌声住了，莱因哈德默默地把歌词放到一边。葛然间，从湖边传来一阵牛群的铃铛声，打破了黄昏的寂静；大伙儿不由得侧耳细听，便听见一个牧童用清亮的嗓音唱道：
莱因哈德莞尔一笑：
“你们听见了吧？就是这么口口相传的啊。”
“在这一带常常听见有人唱，”伊莉莎白说。
“不错，”埃利希说，“是牧童卡斯帕尔；他赶着牛群回家来了。”
他们还倾听了一会儿，直到铃销声消失在山丘上的农场背后。
“这是些古老的音调，”莱因哈德说，“它们沉睡在密林深处；上帝知道是谁把它们找出来的。”
说罢，他又另外抽出一页。
天色更加暗了；只在潮对岸的树梢上，还挂着一片泡沫状的红霞。莱因哈德展开纸，伊莉莎白伸手按住纸的一头，也跟着看那歌词。只听莱因哈德念道；
念着念着，莱因哈德感觉那纸微微颤抖起来；他刚念完，伊莉莎白已轻轻推开身后的椅子，一言未发便走到花园里去了。母亲的目光紧随着她。埃利希想要跟出去，丈母娘却说：“伊莉莎白在外面有事。”这样就遮掩过去了。
外边园子里和湖面上的暮色渐渐合拢，夜蛾子嗡嗡叫着从敞开的门前飞过，花草的芳香一阵浓似一阵地灌进厅中；从湖上飘来一片蛙鸣，窗下的一只夜营放开了歌喉，花园深处有另一只在与它应和；月亮也从树后探出脸来了。莱因哈德久久凝视着幽径间伊莉莎白的倩影悄然隐去的地方；最后，他卷起稿纸，向在座的两位道了别，便穿过房子来到湖边。
树林静悄悄地立着，给湖面投下大片的阴影；湖心却洒着朦胧昏黄的月光。时不时地，林中发出一点儿飒飒的颤动声；可这不是风，而是夏夜的嘘息。莱因哈德沿湖滨走去，突然在离岸授一石远的湖面上，瞧见一朵白色的睡经。他顿时心血来潮，想到近旁去仔细看看，便脱掉衣服，走进湖中。湖水很浅，锋利的水草和石块割痛了他的脚，他老走不到可以游泳的深处。后来，他脚下突然一下踩空了，湖水扯着旋涡在他头上合拢来；过了好半天，他才重新浮出水面。他摆动手脚游了一圈，直到弄清入水的方向。很快，他又发现那睡莲，见它孤孤单单地躺卧在巨大光滑的叶子中间。他慢慢向前游去，偶尔把手臂抬出了水面，往下滴落的水珠便在月光中闪闪发亮。可他觉得，在他和睡莲之间的距离老是没变似的；回头看时，夜霭中的湖岸知更加朦朦胧胧。可他仍不罢休，而是更加使劲儿地往前游去。终于，他游到了离睡莲很近的地方，可以辨清月光下的银白色花瓣了。但与此同时，他却感到自己陷进了一面网中，确是光溜溜的草藤从湖底浮起来，缠住了他赤裸的手脚。四顾茫茫一片黑水，身后又墓地听见一声鱼跃，他顿时感到忐忑不安，便拚命扯掉缠在身上的水草，气喘吁吁地急急游回岸边。从岸边回头再看那睡莲，见它仍和先前一样，远远地，孤独地，躺卧在黑黝黝的水面上。他穿好衣服，慢慢走回房去。在经过花厅时，发现埃利希和他岳母正在作明天出门去办事的准备。
“这么晚您到什么地方去了？”老太太大声问他。
“我？”他应着。“我打算去看看睡莲；结果一无所获。”
“这可又叫人莫名其妙了！”埃利希说，“你跟睡莲未必有一丁点儿关系吗？”
“我曾经了解它，”莱因哈德回答，“可那已是好久好久以前的事。”
第二天下午，莱因哈德和伊莉莎白一道去湖对面散步，一会儿穿过树林，一会儿走在高高的伸入湖中的堤岸上。伊莉莎白受埃利希委托，在他和母亲外出期间陆莱因哈德去观赏周围的美景，尤其是要让他从对岸看看庄园的气派。眼下他俩正从一处走到另一处。伊莉莎白终于走累了，便坐在一棵枝叶婆娑的大树下；莱因哈德站在对面，背靠着一根树干。这当儿，墓地从密林深处传来杜鹃的啼叫，莱因哈德心中猛然一惊：此情此景当初不已有过吗？他望着她异样地笑了。“咱们去采草毒好吗？”他问。
“还不到采草莓的时候，”她回答。
“可这时候也离得不远了呀。”
伊莉莎白摇摇头，缄默无言；随后她站起身，两人又继续漫步。她这么走在他身旁，他的眼睛总一次又一次地转过来瞅着她；她的步态太轻盈啦，宛如被衣裙托负着往前飘去似的，他情不自禁地常常落后一步，以便把她的美姿全部摄入眼帘。终于，他们走到一片长满野草的空地上，眼前的视界变得十分开阔了。莱因哈德不停地采摘着地上生长的野花，一次当他再抬起头来时，脸上突然流露出剧烈的痛楚。
“认识这种花吗？”他冷不了地问。
伊莉莎白不解地望着他。“这是石南，过去我常常在林子里来它，”她回答。
“我在家里有一个旧本子，”他说，“我曾经在里边写下各式各样的诗句；可我已好久不再这样做啦。在这个本子中间，也夹着一朵石南花；不过只是朵已经枯萎了的花。你知道又是谁把它送给我的吗？”
她无声地点点头，眼睛却垂下去，一动不动地凝视着他拿在手里的那朵野花。两人就这么站了很长时间。当她再抬起眼来望他时，他发现她的两眼噙满泪水。
“伊莉莎白，”他说，“在那一带青山后面，留下了咱们的青春。可如今它又在哪儿呢？”
两人都不再言语，只默默地，肩并肩地，向着湖边走去。空气变得闷热起来，西天升起一片黑云。“雷雨快来了，”伊莉莎白说，同时加快步伐。莱因哈德不出声地点点头；两人便沿着湖岸疾走，直到他们的船前。
渡湖时，伊莉莎白把一只手抚在船舷上。莱因哈德一边划桨，一边偷看她；她的目光却避开莱因哈德，茫然地望着远方。莱因哈德的视线于是滑下来，停在她那只手上；这只苍白的小手，向他泄露了她的脸不肯告诉他的秘密。在这手上，他看见了隐痛造成的轻微的抽搐；经常，在不眠的深夜，这样的抽搐惯常出现在抱着自己伤痛的心口的一只纤纤素手上。伊莉莎白感觉出他在看她的手，便慢慢地让手滑到了舷外的水中。
回到在上，他们在住宅前看见一辆磨刀人的小车；一个披着满头黑色鬈发的汉子用力踏动砂轮，嘴里哼着一支吉卜赛人的曲调；一只链子挂着的狗躺在一旁喘着粗气。门廊上站着个衣衫褴褛的女孩子，凄凄惶惶的神气，模样儿原本挺俊，她伸出她的手向伊莉莎白讨钱。
莱因哈德刚掏衣袋，伊莉莎白已抢在头里，急急忙忙把自己钱包中的一切全倒在了讨饭姑娘摊开的手中，然后飞快转身走了；莱因哈德只听见她抽噎着，跑上楼去。
他想上前拦住她，但一转念，停在了楼梯口。穷姑娘仍站在那里，手拿着布施的钱发呆。
“你还想要什么？”莱因哈德问。
她猛一哆嗦，忙说：“不，什么也不要了。”说完就慢慢走出门去，只是脑袋仍转过来，一双眼睛傻愣愣地望着他。他喊出一个名字，但姑娘已经听不见；她垂着头，双臂抱在胸前，走过院子，下坡去了。
一支古老的歌又在他耳中震响，他几乎停止了呼吸；一会儿以后，他便转身回房去。
他坐下来工作，可是思想集中不起来。他努力了一个小时仍不成功，便走到楼下的起居室里。室内空无一人，只有一片洒脱、阴凉的绿意；在伊莉莎白做针线的小儿上，放着她下午戴过的那条红围巾。他拿起围巾来，心中顿觉一阵痛楚，又赶快把它放回去。他心慌意乱，不觉走到湖边，解开小船，划着船到了对岸，把他刚才和伊莉莎白一块儿走过的路全部重新走了一遍、等他再回家来时，天已经黑了。他在院子里碰见车夫；车夫正牵着拉车的马上草地去，出门办事的两位刚刚到家。跨进走廊，他听见埃利希在花厅中来回踱着。他没进厅去见埃利希，只在外边悄悄站了片刻，便轻脚轻手走上楼梯，回房去了、他在房中靠窗的扶手椅中坐下来，极力想象自己是在听楼下园中紫杉篱间那只夜写的鸣啭，实际听见的却只有自己的心跳。楼下所有的人都已安寝，夜也如流水般逝去，只是他不觉得。他这么坐了好几个钟头，临了儿，才站起来，把上身探出敞开着的窗外。夜露在密叶间滴答着，夜营已停止歌唱。渐渐地，东方出现一片黄色的光晕，驱开了夜空中的墨蓝；一股清风随之起来，吹拂着莱因哈德灼热的前额；就在这时，第一只云雀欢叫着，跃上了太空。莱因哈德猛地转身走到桌边，用手摸索铅笔。铅笔摸到了，他便坐下去，在一张白纸上写了几行字。写完，他取过帽子和手杖，轻轻拉开房门，留下那张字条，下楼去了。屋子里还到处是一片朦胧昏暗；家里养的大猫在草褥上伸着懒腰，莱因哈德下意识地伸过手去，猫便把自己的背耸起来。不过，外边院子里的麻雀已在枝头嘁嘁喳喳叫开了，告诉大家，黑夜已经遁去。突然，他听见楼上一扇房门开了，接着又有谁从楼梯上下来；他一抬头，伊莉莎白已站在面前。她一只手抚着莱因哈德的胳膊，嘴唇翕动了几下，却无半点声音。
“你不会再来了，”她终于说，“我知道的，别骗我，你永远不会再来了。”
“永远不会，”他说。她垂下手，再也说不出任何话。他穿过走廊，到了门口再一次转过身来。地呆若木鸣般站在原地，两眼失神地紧盯着他。他跨前一步，朝地伸出双臂；但突然又猛一扭身，出门去了。外面的世界已静卧在朗朗晨光中；挂在蜘蛛网里的露珠给朝阳照着，晶莹闪亮。他头也不回地快步往前赶去，那座宁静的庄园便渐渐落在后面；展现在他眼前的是一个辽阔广大的世界。
月光不再照进玻璃窗，屋里暗起来了；可老人依旧坐在扶手椅中，手握着手，呆呆地凝视着前方。渐渐地，在他眼前，那包围着他的黑暗化成了一个宽阔幽深的大湖，黑黝黝的湖水一浪一浪向前涌去，越涌越低，越涌越远；在最远最远那道几乎为老人的目力所不及的水波上，在一些很大很宽的叶子中间，孤零零地飘浮着一朵洁白的睡莲……
房门开了，一道亮光射进屋中。“您来得正好，布里基特，”老人说，“请把灯放在桌上吧。”
随后，他把椅子也移到桌前，拿起一本摊开的书，专心致志地研究起他年轻时就已下过功夫的学问来。
Notes:
Notes: