the Lady fair in a snow-white robe come, still drowsy
and warm, to the open window. She would stand there braiding her
dark-brown hair, gazing abroad over the garden and shrubbery, or she
would tend and water the flowers upon her window-sill, or would rest
her guitar upon her white arm and sing out into the clear air so
wondrously that to this day my heart faints with sadness when one of
her songs recurs to me. And ah, it was all so long ago!

So my life passed for a week and more. But once--she was standing at
the window and all was quiet around--a confounded fly flew directly
up my nose, and I was seized with an interminable fit of sneezing.
She leaned far out of the window and discovered me cowering in the
shrubbery. I was overcome with mortification and did not go there
again for many a day.

At last I ventured to return to my post, but the window remained
closed. I hid in the bushes for four, five, six mornings, but she did
not appear. Then I grew tired of my hiding-place and came out boldly,
and every morning promenaded bravely beneath all the windows of the
castle. But the lovely Lady fair was not to be seen. At a window a
little farther on I saw the other lady standing; I had never before
seen her so distinctly. She had a fine rosy face, and was plump, and
as gorgeously attired as a tulip. I always made her a low bow, and she
acknowledged it, and her eyes twinkled very kindly and courteously.
Once only, I thought I saw the Lady fair standing behind the curtain
at her window, peeping out.

Many days passed and I did not see her, either in the garden or at
the window. The gardener scolded me for laziness; I was out of humor,
tired of myself and of all about me.

I was lying on the grass one Sunday afternoon, watching the blue
wreaths of smoke from my pipe, and fretting because I had not chosen
some other trade which would not have bored me so day after day.
The other fellows had all gone off to the dance in the neighboring
village. Every one was strolling about in Sunday attire, the houses
were gay, and there was melody in the very air. But I walked off and
sat solitary, like a bittern among the reeds, by a lonely pond in the
garden, rocking myself in a little skiff tied there, while the vesper
bells sounded faintly from the town and the swans glided to and fro on
the placid water. A sadness as of death possessed me.

On a sudden I heard, in the distance, voices talking gaily, and bursts
of merry laughter.