How fair is the fate of a fallen tree. There it lies, and the ground-ivy covers it.
If the wild beasts were to tear me to pieces now, nobody would know where I had perished.
At last I stumbled upon the linden spring.
This was a good guide. The stream flows right along beside the house of the Csányis; one can get home by keeping near its banks, even in the dark.
My soul blamed me for having passed so much time by the Pagan Altar with that "other" woman.
The snow now completely covered the fields, and through it in serpentine flight darted the threefold stream. The autumn leaves were still on the trees, their crowns bent down beneath loads of snow. The whole landscape was sombre, but it was not more sombre than my soul.
Suddenly, like a ray of hope, the window-light of the little house in which I was lodging flashed out before me. It stood at the end of the village, and was the last house of all.
I was utterly wearied both in body and soul when I arrived at last at the little dwelling.
It had neither courtyard nor enclosure. It stood right out upon the road. The carts and ploughs stood there beneath a shed. There are no thieves here.
The door of the house is never bolted, and it opens out upon a little passage. On the right-hand side of this passage lie kitchen and store-room; on the left the living-rooms, and a side chamber, which served me as a bedroom, and the rest of the family as a sort of withdrawing-room. It is the only room in the house which has a deal floor, all the other floors are of clay.