“We will leave the mill!” said Otto, and sought to lead her from her reflections back to her own relation. “We find ourselves in the wood, where the ringing of the evening-bell reaches our ear from the little chapel in Franche Compté.”
“There stands my father’s house!” said Rosalie. “From the corner-window one looks over the wood toward Aubernez, [Author’s Note: A village in the canton Neufchâtel, lying close upon the river Doub, where it forms the boundary between Switzerland and France.] where the ridge leads over the Doub. The sun shines upon the river, which, far below, winds along, gleaming like the clearest silver.”
“And the whole of France spreads itself out before us!” said Otto.
“How beautiful! O, how beautiful!” exclaimed Rosalie, and her eyes sparkled as she gazed before her; but soon her glance became sad, and she pressed Otto’s hand. “No one will welcome me to my home! I know neither their joys nor their sorrows—they are not my own family! In Denmark—I am at home. When the cold sea-mist spreads itself over the heath I often fancy I am living among my mountains, where the heather grows. The mist seems to me then to be a snow-cloud which rests over the mountains, and thus, when other people are complaining of the bad weather, I am up among my mountains!”
“Thou wilt then remove to the family at Lemvig?” asked Otto.
“There I am welcome!” returned she.
CHAPTER XVII
“Look at the calming sea. The waves still tremble in the
depths, and stem to fear the gale.—Over my head is hovering
the shadowy mist.—My curls are wet with the filling dew.”
—OSSIAN.
Otto had not as yet visited the sand-hills on the strand, the fishermen, or the peasants, among whom formerly he had spent all his spare time.