"There," said he, "toward the north, where the creek appears. Do you see it?"
"Now I do," said Catherine.
At this moment the horse, with expanded nostrils, snorted, and suddenly leapt sideways. The unprepared rider lost her balance and would have fallen off had not her companion, by a quick spring, caught her in his arms.
"It is nothing," said he, as she slid down to the ground. "Old Hans acts as if he had never before seen a snake. Are you not ashamed of yourself, old fellow? So--keep quiet, so!" He patted the frightened horse on his short, thick neck, stripped off the bridle and tied him to a sapling.
"You must have been terribly frightened," said he. His voice and hands shook while he buckled on the pillion which had become displaced.
"Oh, no," said Catherine.
She had seated herself on the root of a tree, and looked over the valley where now, over the luxuriant meadow which followed the course of the stream, a fog began to rise. Yonder the sun was just dipping into the emerald, forest sea, and the golden flames on the trunks, boughs and tops of the great trees were gradually fading away.
From above, the cloudless, greenish-blue evening sky looked down, while a flock of wild swans was flying northward up the valley. From time to time they uttered their peculiar, melancholy cry, melodiously softened by the distance. A deep, quiet stillness brooded over the primitive forest.
The young man stood leaning against the shoulder of the horse. There rested on his brown face a deep, sad anxiety. Often a shadow of restlessness and fear passed over it, widely differing from the usual expression of the smooth, manly features, and obscuring the light that commonly danced in the large blue eyes. He looked now at the swans, which shone as silver stars in the distant, rosy horizon--now at the maiden who sat there, partly turned away from him. At length, drawing a deep breath a couple of times, he approached her.
"Catherine," said he.