For some
inconceivable reason the tears started to my eyes; I took the little
girl up in my arms and kissed her. My thoughts then naturally turned
to Mabel; I knew in the depth of my heart that she, too, would have
remained unchanged. What could she be that was better than her own
sweet self--the pure, the beautiful, the blessed Mabel?
When the sun was well set, I sat down under the same hemlock-tree
where I had first met the gnome. After half an hour's waiting I again
saw the lights advancing over the ground, struck at random at one of
them and the small man was once more visible. I did not seize his cap,
however, but addressed him in this manner:
"Do you know, you curious Old World sprite, what scrapes your
detestable spectacles brought me into? Here they are. Take them back.
I don't want to see them again as long as I live."
In the next moment I saw the precious glasses in the gnome's hand, a
broad, malicious grin distorted his features, and before I could say
another word, he had snatched up his cap and vanished.
A few days later, Mabel, with her sweet-brier dress on, was again
walking at my side along the stream in the gorge, and somehow our
footsteps led us to the old willow-tree where we had had out talk
about the German gnomes and fairies.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212