It was the selfsame song that he had sung on the
balcony of the Italian inn on that summer evening when I saw him for
the last time.
He went on singing, while I bounded over beds and hedges toward the
singer. But as I emerged from between the last clumps of rose-bushes I
suddenly paused spellbound. For on the green opening beside the little
lake with the swans, clearly illuminated in the ruddy evening light,
on a stone bench sat the lovely Lady fair in a beautiful dress, with
a wreath of red and white roses on her dark-brown hair, and downcast
eyes, tracing lines on the green-sward with her riding-whip, just as
she had sat in the skiff when I was forced to sing her the song of
the Lady fair. Opposite her sat another young lady, with brown curls
clustering on a plump white neck, which was turned toward me; she was
singing to a guitar, while the swans glided in wide circles on the
placid water. All at once the Lady fair raised her eyes, and gave
a scream on perceiving me. The other lady turned round toward me so
quickly that her brown curls fell over her eyes, and when she saw me
she burst into a fit of immoderate laughter, sprang up from the bench,
and clapped her hands thrice. Whereupon a crowd of little girls in
white short skirts with red and green sashes came running out from
among the rose-bushes, so that I could not imagine where they had all
been hiding. They had long garlands of flowers in their hands, and
quickly formed a circle around me, dancing and singing--
"With ribbons gay of violets blue
The bridal wreath we bring thee;
The merry dance we lead thee to,
And wedding songs we sing thee.
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