They came from the young men and girls, who, on their wandering, gave themselves up to merriment.

Otto stood silent and full of thought in the open window.
Perhaps it was the moon which lent her paleness to his countenance.
On what did he reflect?
Upon his departure, perhaps?
Only one more day would he remain here, where he felt himself so much at home; but then the journey was toward his own house, to his grandfather, to Rosalie, and the old preacher, who all thought so much of him.

Otto stood listening and silent.

The wind bore the song more distinctly over from the wood.
"That is their joy, their happiness!" said he.

"It might have been my joy also, my happiness!" lay in the sigh which he heaved.