Oh, Gretchen!" "Gretchen ?" The carter stepped into a shadow and waited.
* * * * * Carmichael did not enjoy the opera that night.

He had missed the first acts, and the last was gruesome, and the royal box was vacant.

Outside he sat down on one of the benches near the fountains in the Platz.

His prolific imagination took the boundaries.

Ah! That morning's ride, down the southern path of the mountains, the black squirrels in the branches, the red fox in the bushes, the clear spring, and the drink out of the tin cup which hung there for the thirsty! How prettily she had wrapped a leaf over the rusted edge of the cup! The leaf lay in his pocket.