a broad
mass of stone. The Bohemian leaped across the rivulet, rattling down a
quantity of loose stones behind him, and with the humming operation of
some wheel-work, the heavy stone moved slowly aside, and discovered a
low, narrow opening.

'Do we enter there?' asked Faith in a tone so disconsolate as to call
forth a hearty laugh from all the Bohemians. Even Oswald joined in the
laugh, and, clasping the maiden in his arms, he sprung with her to
the opposite bank. They all now stood within a narrow passage, the
wheel-work again moved, the entrance closed, and they were enveloped in
darkness.

'It is very dark here!' cried Faith.

'We shall soon come into the light,' said their leader, advancing. The
others followed, and they thus proceeded in a narrow path, floored with
yielding planks, and bounded by high perpendicular walls of dark gray
stone, between which was seen the dark blue sky--so dark indeed, that
they could almost distinguish the stars in broad day-light. The
trickling water glistened upon the walls like silver threads upon a
black velvet ground; and here and there little waterfalls, forming
dazzling crystals with their congealing spray, bounded down the rocks
and disappeared under the planks upon which they were walking.

'If we follow this path much longer,' protested Faith, 'I shall die of
fear and anxiety.'

'For shame, my love!' answered Oswald. 'Will you, who spoke so boldly
for me to the grim Wallenstein, lose your courage here in the bosom of
harmonious nature, where we are especially and wholly in the hands of a
protecting God?'

'We are at the end!' exclaimed the Bohemian, stepping out into the
clear sunshine. The fugitives followed him, and found themselves in a
narrow but pleasant valley, surrounded by high snow-covered rocks which
cut off this quiet retreat from the rest of the world. A clear, silver
fountain, which gushed from a cleft in the rocks, meandered through the
vale, while among and upon the rocks, like eyries, were to be seen
about ten huts, built of rough branches, and well covered with moss, to
secure their inhabitants from the inclemencies of the weather. Men,
women, and children, were moving in and about these simple dwellings as
quietly and confidently as if they had resided there all their lives.
The fire ordered by the Bohemian twirled its smoke up into the clear
heavens, and there sat Lotek, assiduously turning a haunch of venison
which was roasting before it. An old an