which bent forward and thrust the slanting pole against its shoulder. Afterwards the tug flotilla would appear like a grand illumination, winding round the point, close under the dark Bastei rock, like a procession of perpendicular staves with large golden knobs on the top led by a ruby and an emerald one.
Nor did life stand still on the other bank of the river, as a train now and then passed from one side or the other, stopping and whistling at the little station. This would continue until about half-past nine, when the express for Prague and Vienna flew by like lightning among the trees, without so much as slackening speed, and always reminded us that it was time to go home. We needed this reminder, because "in the house of the happy the clock does not strike," as Schiller has it.
Moreover, I was not the only one who was happy. The sadness, which had at first overshadowed Minna, gradually wore off and gave place to a youthful gaiety. That some sorrow still remained in the depths of her soul one could only guess from the strange shadows which, now and again, would fall upon her brightest moods. I might, without being too conceited, ascribe to my own influence some part of this change in her. The kindness of the benevolent old couple towards both of us did Minna good; it took the character of the caressing sympathy with which one encourages the convalescent to enjoy life. To me it was rather irritating, but she seemed only to feel comfort in it.
Thus we watched the big stream, with its quaint life passing by, in the same manner that one allows life to drift along in happy days without desiring anything more.
It also gave a topic for our talk. She told me all about the raftsmen's life, especially up in the mountain rivers,
