At the edge of the meadow Kuni paused to reflect.

She would gladly have flung herself down on the dewy grass to rest, stretched at full length on the cool turf.

She was worn out, and her foot ached and burned painfully after her long walk in the warm August night; but something else exerted a still stronger attraction over her poor longing heart; the desire to see Lienhard again and give him the pinks as a token of gratitude for so much kindness.
He was still sitting with the other gentlemen at the table in front of the tavern.

One of the torches threw its light full on his manly face.
Kuni knew that he could not see her in the darkness surrounding her figure, yet it seemed as though she was meeting the gaze of his sparkling dark eyes.

Now he was speaking.