A
little more attention brought more and more numerous objects into view.
I had leaned out of my window rapt in contemplation for more than a
quarter of an hour when a hand was laid lightly upon my shoulder; I
turned round startled, when the calm figure and quiet smile of Gideon
saluted me with--
"Guten Tag, Fritz! Good morning!"
Then he also rested his arms on the window, smoking his short pipe. He
extended his hand and said--
"Look, Fritz, and admire! You are a son of the Black Forest, and you must
admire all that. Look there below; there is Roche Creuse. Do you see it?
Don't you remember Gertrude? How far off those times seem now!"
Sperver brushed away a tear. What could I say?
We sat long contemplating and meditating over this grand spectacle. From
time to time the old poacher, noticing me with my eyes fixed upon some
distant object, would explain--
"That is the Wald Horn; this is the Tiefenthal; there's the fall of the
Steinbach; it has stopped running now; it is hanging down in great
fringed sheets, like the curtains over the shoulder of the Harberg--a
cold winter's cloak! Down there is a path that leads to Fribourg; in a
fortnight's time it will be difficult to trace it.
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