-"Fru Holle! Fru
Holle!"--did she say very loudly and distinctly--the rest seemed to
die away on the wind; and she certainly did pronounce the rest of the
sentence so indistinctly, that Anthon was sure she had not really
added the other words. Yet she looked very confident--as bold as when,
in the summer evening, she and several other little girls came to play
in the garden with him, and when they all wanted to kiss him, just
because he would not be kissed, and defended himself from them, she
alone ventured to achieve the feat.

"_I_ dare to kiss him!" she used to say, with a proud toss of her
little head. Then she would take him round his neck to prove her
power, and Anthon would put up with it, and think it all right from
her. How pretty and how clever she was! Fru Holle within the hill was
also very charming, but her charms, it had been said, sprung from the
seducing beauty bestowed on her by the evil one; but still greater
beauty was to be found in the holy Elizabeth, the patron saint of the
country, the pious Thueringian princess, whose good works, known
through traditions and legends, were celebrated in so many places. A
picture of her hung in the chapel with a silver lamp before it, but
Molly did not resemble her.

The apple tree the two children had planted grew year after year; it
became so large that it had to be transferred to the garden, out in
the open air, where the dew fell and the sun shone warmly; it became
strong enough to withstand the severity of winter, and after winter's
hard trials it seemed as if rejoicing in the return of spring: it then
put forth blossoms. In August it had two apples, one for Molly and one
for Anthon: it would not have been well if it had had less.

The tree had grown rapidly, and Molly had grown as fast as the tree;
she was as fresh as an apple blossom, but she was no longer to see
that flower. Everything changes in this world. Molly's father left his
old home, and Molly went with him--far, far away. In our time it might
be only a few hours' journey by railway, but in those days it took
more than a day and a night to arrive so far east from Eisenach. It
was to the other extremity of Thueringia they had to go, to a town
which is now called Weimar.

And Molly wept, and Anthon wept. All these were now concentrated in
one single tear, and it had the happy rosy tinge of joy. Molly had
assured him that she cared much more for him than for all the grandeur
of Weimar.

One year