d beautiful she is!
Let me shake hands with you."

Thoma gave her hand with reluctance, and the teamster continued
jokingly:

"Get him to tell you what he did one night when we were before Paris.
We were lying by the camp-fire, roasted on one side, frozen on the
other. Anton, who was asleep, called out, 'Thoma! Thoma!' He wouldn't
own up to it afterwards, but I heard it plain enough. Well, good-by;
may God keep you both. Get up," he called to his horses, and drove on.

At last the lovers made their way out of the crowd to the quiet
meadow-path, where, for a time, they walked hand in hand, then stood
still. Any one who saw them must have thought they were speaking loving
words to each other. The youth's voice was full of tenderness, but he
spoke not of love, or, at least, not of love for his betrothed. He
began hesitatingly: "Let me tell you something, darling."

"What is it? What's the matter?"

"Just think of our being here together, and having each other, and
belonging to each other, and only a little while ago I was so far away
in France. There, in the field, on the march, or in the camp, thousands
upon thousands of us, we were like one man, no one for himself, no one
thinking of what he was at home. The brotherhood was all; and now, each
lives for himself alone."

"You are not alone, we are together."

"Yes, indeed. But you were going to ask me something."

"Oh, yes! How did it happen that you called my name in your sleep?"

"I'll tell you. Do you remember my passing your house when I was on my
way to the army as a recruit?"

"Certainly I remember it."

"Did you notice that I took a roundabout way over the mountain, so as
to pass it?"

"I didn't notice it then, but afterward I thought of it. When you gave
me your hand in farewell you looked at me with your fiery eyes, that
are so piercing."

"Yes, I wanted then to tell you how much I loved you, but I wouldn't do
it, for your sake. I said to myself, 'You had better say nothing, and
so save her from heart-ache and anxiety while you are in the war, and
from life-long grief if you should be killed.' It was hard for me to
keep silent, but after I had gone I was glad of it. And, do you
remember? you had a wild-rose in your mouth by the stem, and the
rose-leaves lay on your lips, just where I wanted to put a kiss; and at
your throat was a corn-flower as blue as your eyes."

"Oh, you flatterer! But go on, go on; what else?"

Anton drew her to him and kis