was the same: even the nail on which Venik had hung his violin still stuck in the hollow tree. Only when he looked at Krista all seemed different. And he looked at her very much, and then everything was very different. Krista’s eye was inflamed and moist with tears, and when he touched her hand it was again as hot as fire.
When the moon rose, Krista said to Venik that he never was to think of her again, and Venik to this replied, “Prithee, why shouldst thou unlink thyself from me.”
But, as her only reply, Krista again laid her head on his bosom, and wept and sobbed as if she would unlink herself from him for ever. She kissed his face, his eyes, his forehead, his mouth—it was the first time that she had kissed him.
Then Venik said, “Krista, be mine.”
On this Krista nestled yet closer to his side—but then of a sudden she rose and ran away to the wood.
Venik sat a long time alone, and it seemed to him as though he had seen happiness flutter round him, and as if he had actually caught hold of it. He held it in his hands, he looked for and did not know what had become of it. After this he shouted, “Krista! Krista!” and when Krista responded not he went into the wood, gathered leaves and moss with both hands, carried them in his arms to the tree, and in its hollow trunk strewed a couch. Then he sat on the threshold, and was like a sentinel on guard.
There were no signs of Krista, but still it seemed to Venik as though she was there, and as if he saw her at every glance, and at every glance she seemed more fair. Then she was there, she stood behind him like a shadow, she never stirred, her head drooped upon her bosom, and her hands clasped together.
“Krista, I have but now prepared thy couch in the tree”, said Venik, and his voice trembled so that it was not in him to say anything more. Krista without a word went and laid herself down in the tree on the leaves and moss.
Venik retired a few paces toward the wood, and laid himself down beside it.
But he did not sleep. It seemed to him as though he must make certain whether Krista slept or not. He rose, stole silently to the tree, looked in a brief moment, and in that moment Krista raised her head.
Venik as though with a knife in his heart retired to his previous resting-place, and laid himself down once more.
Then he fell asleep, and all his dreams ran on Krista. And he fancied that she laid her head on his hand; he fancied that he
