The fresh and dewy air of morning revived her spirits. A cow, grazing near by, raised its head and looked at her, and then went on eating again.
A silver-gray light gradually dawned in the east, and that wonderful passage from Haydn's "Creation" flashed through Irma's mind. She fancied that the tones assumed tangible, corporeal shapes, arising out of the early-gray of dawn. By degrees, the gray changed into a golden hue, and then faint streaks of red would flash through it, gradually heightening in color, while down below, stretching into the distance, like a dark and immeasurable stream, lay the darkness of night. At last, rugged cliffs, peaks, and broad mountain ridges raised their heads into the light, while their bases still lay veiled in night which was gradually changing into dark gray. The rosy tint gradually extended and gained in intensity until it covered the heavens. Meanwhile, the giant forms of the mountains stood forth more clearly and at last, dazzling the eyes, the sun appeared, bathing every height in purple and golden hues, while the rolling clouds below appeared like mighty waves. Bright day, warming and illumining the earth, had arisen. Millions of odors arose from every tree, every blade of grass, and every flower. The singing of birds was heard, and Irma opened her arms as if to embrace infinity. She did not sink on her knees, but remained standing upright. Involuntarily, her foot left the ground, as if she could not help soaring away into infinite space. She pressed both hands to her forehead, and when she touched the bandage, it seemed loosened of itself and fell to the ground.
A sunbeam shone upon her brow and she felt that it was now pure. She stood there for a long while, gazing at the sunlight. Her eye was not dazzled by its refulgence. Calm and peaceful harmonies filled her soul. A child of man had witnessed the symbol of creation and had herself been created anew.
Now come, ye days that are still left me, be ye long or short!--Where and with whom I may have to spend them, it matters not; for I am free! I am saved!
All that I now do is only preparation for the journey. The hour draws near and, be it early or late, I am prepared for it. I have lived!
"Why, Irmgard, how strange you look!" exclaimed Gundel, coming out of the hut, and carrying the milk-pail on her head. "Dear me, what a forehead you've got, so white and so beautiful! Oh, how beautiful you are! I never saw so smooth and beautiful a forehead before!"
Irma accepted a glass of milk from Gundel, and then tucked up her dress and went out into the woods. It was not until high noon that she returned to the cottage. During the whole day, she had scarcely uttered a word.
In the cottage, she found the little pitchman standing before her table, and arranging a great heap of aromatic herbs and roots.
"Just look," he cried, "I've found something already. Yes, I know a thing or two. I've been gathering clover and mountain parsley for the apothecary. I know everything growing hereabouts that they can use, and many a time has my sister said: 'In the spring everything's sweet and good; and wherever the poison lies, it takes the summer heat to bring it out.' Oh, she was a clever one! Many a time she's said: 'The best things grow up among the clouds.'"
After a short pause, he began again: