14
There was no church. Late in the afternoon when the sky lifted they all went to the woods in their summer dresses and hats. They had permission to carry their gloves and Elsa Speier’s parasol and lace scarf hung from her wrist. The sky was growing higher and lighter, but there was no sun. They entered the dark woods by a little well-swept pathway and for a while there was a strip of sky above their heads; but presently the trees grew tall and dense, the sky was shut out and their footsteps and voices began to echo about them as they straggled along, grouping and regrouping as the pathway widened and narrowed, gathering their skirts clear of the wet undergrowth. They crossed a roadway and two carriage loads of men and women talking and laughing and shouting with shining red faces passed swiftly by, one close behind the other. Beyond the roadway the great trees towered up in a sort of twilight. There were no flowers here, but bright fungi shone here and there about the roots of the trees and they all stood for a moment to listen to the tinkling of a little stream.
Pathways led away in all directions. It was growing lighter. There were faint chequers of light and shade about them as they walked. The forest was growing golden all round them, lifting and opening, gold and green, clearer and clearer. There were bright jewelled patches in amongst the trees; the boles of the trees shone out sharp grey and silver and flaked with sharp green leaves away and away until they melted into a mist of leafage. Singing sounded suddenly away in the wood; a sudden strong shouting of men’s voices singing together like one voice in four parts, four shouts in one sound.
“O Sonnenschein! O Sonnenschein!”
Between the two exclamatory shouts, the echo rang through the woods and the listening girls heard the sharp drip, drip and murmur of the little stream near by, then the voices swung on into the song, strongly interwoven, swelling and lifting; dropping to a soft even staccato and swelling strongly out again.
“Wie scheinst du mir in’s Herz hinein,
Weck’st drinnen lauter Liebeslust,
Dass mir so enge wird die Brust
O Sonnenschein! O Sonn—enschein!”
When the voices ceased there was a faint distant sound of crackling twigs and the echo of talking and laughter.
“Ach Studenten!”
“Irgend ein Männergesangverein.”
“I think we ought to get back, Gertrude. Fräulein said only an hour altogether and it’s church to-night.”
“We’ll get back, Millenium mine—never fear.”
As they began to retrace their steps Clara softly sang the last line of the song, the highest note ringing, faint and clear, away into the wood.
“Ho-lah!” A mighty answering shout rang through the wood. It was like a word of command.
“Oh, come along home; Clara, what are you dreaming of?”
“Taisez-vous, taisez-vous, Clarah! C’est honteux mon Dieu!”