I stood looking at the wonderful flask for a long time, not knowing
what to think. And if before I played the fiddle merrily, I now
played it ten times more so, and I sang the song of the Lady fair all
through, and all the other songs that I knew, until the nightingales
wakened outside and the moon and stars lit up the garden. Ah, that was
a lovely night!
No cradle-song tells the child's future; a blind hen finds many a
grain of wheat; he laughs best who laughs last; the unexpected often
happens; man proposes, God disposes: thus did I meditate the next day,
sitting in the garden with my pipe, and as I looked down at myself I
seemed to myself to be a downright dunce. Contrary to all my habits
hitherto, I now rose betimes every day, before the gardener and the
other assistants were stirring. It was most beautiful then in the
garden. The flowers, the fountains, the rose-bushes, the whole place,
glittered in the morning sunshine like pure gold and jewels. And in
the avenues of huge beeches it was as quiet, cool, and solemn as
a church, only the little birds fluttered around and pecked in the
gravel paths. In front of the castle, just under the windows, there
was a large bush in full bloom. Thither I used to go in the early
morning, and crouch down beneath the branches where I could watch the
windows, for I had not the courage to appear in the open. Thence I
sometimes saw the Lady fair in a snow-white robe come, still drowsy
and warm, to the open window.
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