Ribbons gay of violets blue,
Bridal wreath we bring thee."
It was from _Der Freischuetz_. I recognized some of the little singers;
they were girls from the village. I pinched their cheeks, and tried to
escape from the circle, but the roguish little things would not let
me out. I could not tell what to make of it all, and stood there
perfectly dazed.
Suddenly a young man in hunting costume emerged from the shrubbery.
Hardly could I believe my eyes--it was merry Herr Lionardo! The little
girls now opened the circle and stood as if spell-bound on one foot,
with the other stretched out, holding the garlands of flowers high
above their heads with both hands. Herr Lionardo took the hand of the
lovely Lady fair, who had risen, and had only now and then glanced at
me, and, leading her up to me, said--
"Love--on this point philosophers are unanimous--is one of the most
courageous qualities of the human heart; it shatters with a glance of
fire the barriers of rank and station, the world is too confined for
it, eternity too brief. It is, so to speak, a poet's robe, in which
every dreamer enwraps himself once in this cold world, for a journey
to Arcadia. And the farther two parted lovers wander from each other,
the more beautiful and the richer are the folds of the robe, the more
surprising and wonderful is its extent, as it sweeps behind them, so
that one really cannot travel far without treading on a couple of such
trains.
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