I had but to say, "Table,
be spread," and lo, I was served with delicious viands, rice, wine,
melons, and Parmesan cheese. I lived on the best, slept in the
magnificent canopied bed, walked in the garden, played my fiddle, and
sometimes helped with the gardening. I often lay for hours in the tall
grass, and the pale youth in his long surtout--he was a student and a
relative of the old woman's, and was spending his vacation here--would
pace around me in a wide circle, muttering from his book like a
conjurer, which was always sure to send me to sleep. Thus day after
day passed, until, what with the good eating and drinking, I began
to grow quite melancholy. My limbs became limp from perpetually doing
nothing, and I felt as if I should fall to pieces from sheer laziness.
One sultry afternoon, I was sitting in the boughs of a tall tree that
overhung the valley, gently rocking myself above its quiet depths. The
bees were humming among the leaves around me; all else was silent
as the grave; not a human being was to be seen on the mountains, and
below me on the peaceful meadows the cows were resting in the high
grass. But from afar away the note of a post-horn floated across
the wooded heights, at first scarcely audible, then clearer and more
distinct. On the instant my heart reechoed an old song which I had
learned when at home at my father's mill from a traveling journeyman,
and I sang--
"Whenever abroad you are straying,
Take with you your dearest one;
While others are laughing and playing,
A stranger is left all alone.
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