He did not understand himself, and often wondered why he, reckless Heinz, thus made a mountain out of a molehill.

Yet when, after this reflection, he uttered a sigh of relief, it seemed as if a voice within commanded him not to think lightly of what had passed, for on that evening he had ceased to bestow pleasure on every one, and instead of, as usual, being helpful and agreeable, he had plunged others who had done him no wrong--nay, perhaps a whole household, whose daughter had given him the first love of her young heart-into misery and disgrace.

Had he considered the consequences of his act, he would still be merry Heinz.
Then he remembered how, when a boy, playing with other lads high up among the mountains just as it was beginning to thaw, he had hurled the work they had finished with so much toil, a snow man, down the slope, rejoicing with his playfellows over its swift descent towards the valley, until they noticed with what frightful speed its bulk increased as it sped over its snowy road, till at last, like a terrible avalanche, it swept away a herdsman's hut--fortunately an empty one.

Now, also, his heedlessness had set in motion a mass which constantly rolled onward, and how terrible might be the harm it would do! If Hartmann, the Emperor's son, were only there! He confided everything to him, for he was sure of his silence.

Both his duty as a knight and his conscience forbade him to relate his experiences and ask counsel from any one else.
He was still absorbed in these gloomy thoughts when, just before reaching the Walch, he heard Biberli's deep sigh.