“He is a beautiful cock. His name is Welcome.”
“Welcome...?”
“Yes.... It is an old, old sound.”
The currant bushes almost closed them round. Above the currants showed the snowy cherry trees, and above the cherry trees the high, steep, red roofs of neighbouring houses. Thekla and Eberhard sat very still. “It seems to me,” said Eberhard, “that we have known each other the longest time—”
“The longest time.... I think that we live always, and only fail to remember.”
“Known and loved.... What are we going to do now, Thekla?”
She looked at the sky above the trees. “We are going to free ourselves.”
“Free ourselves.”
“Yes. Free you—free me.”
“I am only beginning to earn. I have nothing but what I earn. I have letters telling me of good work to be had at the next Court. I may paint there the Prince’s portrait and those of his children. Moreover, he would have drawings of Christ’s Parables that in woodcuts may be scattered like seed over the land.... But it is far from Hauptberg.... I know not when I shall see you again.”