Night fell, and the clouds grew black.
"The wind is rising," said the peasant; "an ill night for travellers. Here is one coming towards us."
It proved to be a guide who lived in the nearest post village, and who, duly commissioned for the service, brought to Christian Almer the letters of the Advocate and his wife.
"A storm is gathering," said the guide; "I must find shelter on the heights to-night."
In his lonely room Christian Almer broke the seals, and by the dull light of a single candle read the lines written by friend to friend, by lover to lover.
The thunder rolled over the mountains; the lightning flashed through the small window; the storm was upon him.
He read the letters once only, but every word was impressed clearly upon his brain. For an hour he sat in silence, gazing vacantly at the edelweiss on the table, the lucky love-flower.
The peasant's wife called to him, and asked if he wanted anything.
"Nothing," he replied, in a voice that sounded strange to him.
"I will leave the bread and milk on the table," she said. "Good-night."