ears, are they the souls of those who have never been
buried, and who in garments that are falling to pieces rise every night
from their graves, which have neither been consecrated by a benediction
nor by holy water and in which they cannot find rest?

That was a fairy tale. But was not everything there as in the fairy
tale? So quite different to everywhere else in the world, in reality
ugly and yet not ugly, in reality not beautiful and yet so exceedingly
beautiful? And she herself, was she not quite a different being there?
Did she not wander about full of hope, in blissful dreams, like one to
whom something wonderful is to happen?

It was in the sixth week of their stay at Spa. The nights were
already as cold as in winter, but the days were still sunny. It was
always a long journey up to the inn even for the strong Ardennes
horses, but Paul and his wife were there again to-day. Would they have
to leave soon? Alas, yes. Kate had to confess it to herself with
sorrow. Everything was very autumnal, the heather had finished
flowering, the air was raw; the grass that had already been frozen
during the night rustled under her feet. They could have found use for
their winter clothes.

"Ugh, how cold," said the man shivering, and he turned up the collar
of his overcoat. He wanted to twist a shawl round his wife's neck, but
she resisted: "No, no!" She ran on in front of him through the
rustling heather with quick steps. "Just look."

It was a wide view that presented itself to their eyes there on the
highest point in the Venn, that is adorned with a rickety wooden tower.
The whole large plateau covered with heather lay before them, with here
and there a group of dark firs that only showed spreading branches on
the side away from the storm. These firs that cowered so timidly were
trees that had been planted there; they were hardly higher than the
heather, and only recognisable on account of their different colour.
And, here and there, there was a stray grey boulder and a cross that
the wind had carried to the side of it. And a calm lay over the whole
in the pale midday autumn light as though it were God's acre.

When they had climbed up the tower they saw still more. From the
plateau they looked down into the valley: a blue expanse around them,
blue from the darkness of the forests and from autumn vapours, and in
the beautiful blue outstretched villages the white houses half hidden
behind tall hedges. And here, looking dow