"I didn't notice it then, but afterward I thought of it. When you gave me your hand in farewell you looked at me with your fiery eyes, that are so piercing."
"Yes, I wanted then to tell you how much I loved you, but I wouldn't do it, for your sake. I said to myself, 'You had better say nothing, and so save her from heart-ache and anxiety while you are in the war, and from life-long grief if you should be killed.' It was hard for me to keep silent, but after I had gone I was glad of it. And, do you remember? you had a wild-rose in your mouth by the stem, and the rose-leaves lay on your lips, just where I wanted to put a kiss; and at your throat was a corn-flower as blue as your eyes."
"Oh, you flatterer! But go on, go on; what else?"
Anton drew her to him and kissed her, then continued:
"There! Shall I go on? Well, you took the two flowers in your hand, and I saw you would like to give them to me, and I wanted to have them, but even that I wouldn't ask. Often and often by day and by night, in the field and on the watch, I thought of you, as the song says: and once, when the teamster lay beside me, I spoke your name in my sleep."
"Oh, you are so dear and so good and so sweet," cried Thoma, "I'm afraid I'm not gentle enough for you. In our home everything is rough, we are not so----. But you'll see I can be different."
Her eyes moistened while she spoke, and the whole expression of her face changed to one of humility and tenderness.
"I will not have you different," cried Anton, "you shall remain as you are, for just as you are you please me best. Oh, Heaven! who in the world would believe that Landolin's Thoma of Reutershöfen could be as gentle as a dove."
"I gentle?" she exclaimed, laughingly, "I a dove? All right then, catch me!" she cried, joyously clapping her hands and running quickly into the forest, whither Anton followed her.