its source; when it was getting dusk, and
he could delay no longer, he told her his
secret; and Margaret told him in return her
secret; which was, that she loved him too.
"But," said she, "I must tell my father this."

That night, after supper, they told Jacob
Elsen what had passed between them. Jacob
was a man in the prime of life. He was not
avaricious, but he was prudent in all things.
"Let Carl," he said, "come back after his
Wanderzeit is ended, with fifty gold gulden;
and then, if you are willing to marry him, I
will make him a master tun-maker." Carl
asked no more than this. He did not doubt of
being able to bring back that sum, and he knew
that the law would not allow him to marry
until his apprenticeship was ended. He was
anxious to be gone. On the morrow he took
his leave of Margaret,— early in the morning,
before anything was stirring in the streets.
Carl was full of hope, but Margaret wept as
they stood upon the threshold. "Three
years," she said, "will sometimes work such
changes in us that we are not like our former
selves."

"And yet they will only make me love you
more," replied Carl.

"You will meet with fairer women than I,
where you are going," said Margaret, "and I
shall be thinking of you at home, long after
you have forgotten me."

"Now, I am sure you love me, Margaret,"
he said, delighted; "but you must not have
doubts of me while I am away. As surely as
I love you now, I will come back with the
fifty gold gulden, and claim your father's
promise."

Margaret lingered at the door, and Carl
looked back many times till he turned an
angle of the street. His heart was light
enough in spite of their separation, for
he had always looked forward to this
journey as the means of winning her hand;
and every step he took seemed to bring him
nearer to his object. "I must not lose time,"
thought he, "and yet it would be a great
thing if I could find the head of our river.
My way lies southward: I will try!" On the
third day he took a boat at a little village and
pulled against the stream; but, in the afternoon,
he drew near the rocks, and the current
became stronger. He pulled on, however, till
the steep grey walls were on each side of him,
and looking up he saw only a strip of sky; but
at length, with all the strength of his arms,
he could only keep the boat where it was.
Now and then, with a sudden effort, he
advanced a few yards, but he could not maintain
the place he had won, and after a while he
grew weary, and was obliged to give it up and
drift back again. "So, what has been said
about the rocks and the strength of the water
is true," thought he;  "I can testify to that
at least."

Carl wandered for many days before he got
employment; and, when he did, it was poorly
paid, and scarcely sufficed for his living; so
he was obliged to depart again. When half
his term was completed he had scarcely saved
ten "gold gulden," though he had walked
hundreds of miles and worked in many cities.
One day he set out again, to seek for employment
elsewhere. When he had been walking
several days, he came to a small town on the
bank of a river, whose waters were so bright
that they reminded him of the Klar. The
town, too, was so like Stromthal that he could
almost fancy that he had made a great circuit
and come back to his starting place again. But
Carl did not want to go home yet. His term
was only half expired, and his ten gold gulden
(one of which was already nibbled in travelling),
would make a poor figure after his boast
of returning with fifty. His heart was not so
light as when he quitted Margaret at the door
of her father's house. He had found the
world different from his expectations of it.
The harshness of strangers had soured him,
and there was no pleasure that day in being
reminded of his native town. If he had not
been weary he would have turned aside and
gone upon his journey without stopping; but it
was evening, and he wanted some refreshment.

He walked through straggling streets that
reminded him still further of his home, until
he came to the market-place, in the midst of
which stood a large white statue of a woman.
She held an olive branch in her hand: her
head was bare, but folds of drapery enveloped
her, from the waist to the feet. "Whose
is this statue," asked Carl of a bystander?
The man answered in a strange dialect, but
Carl understood him.

"It is the statue of our river," he
answered.

"What is your river called?"

"The Geber: for it enriches the town,
enabling us to trade with many great cities."

"And why is the head of the woman bare
while her feet are hidden?"

"Because we know where the river rises;
but, whither it flows none know."

"Can no one float down with the current
and see?"

"It is dangerous to search; the stream
grows swifter, running between high rocks,
until it rushes into a deep cavern, and is lost."

"How strange," thought Carl, "that this
town should be, in so many respects, so like
my own!" But a little further on in a narrow
street, he found a wooden house with a small
tun hanging over the doorway, by way of
sign, so like Jacob Elsen's house, that if the
words "Peter Schönfuss, tun-maker to the
Duke," had not been written above the door,
he would have thought it magic. Carl
knocked here, and a young woman came to
the door; here the likeness ended, for Carl
saw at a glance that Margaret was a hundred
times more beautiful than she.

"I do not know whether my father wants
workmen," said the young woman; "but if
you are a traveller, you can rest, and refresh
yourself until he comes in."