"Luisa!"

Luisa laid hold of the cow nearest her, and began to rub its horns with

her apron. "Luisa!"

There was no reply. Luisa was still busy with the cow's horn.

"Luisa, will you give me that flower for my hat?"

A shake of the head was the only answer, and after waiting a little Peter went his way.

He had been walking some ten minutes when he stopped as if an invisible hand had been laid upon him, stood a moment absorbed in thought, shook himself and walked on a few steps, then halted again, and unslung the pack he carried on his back, which was composed of a rough pastrano or cloak, and the coarse fustian bag which held his personal property. When the bag lay before him on the road, he stooped to open it, and then suddenly hesitated; once more he stood still, looking with unseeing eyes at the distant landscape, and turning over a problem in his mind. These vacillating movements represented a struggle with the temptation of improvidence, a temptation which now assailed him for the first time. He had in his bag an enormous, rosycheeked, shining apple, an apple as round and perfect as if it had been made of wax, and this treasure was intended for his new master's little daughter. He had expatiated upon its beauty when he promised it to her, and therefore must buy another in Bozen if he now gave it away. The one in question (which had been given to him) was expensive, he knew; and to pay money for fruit had always seemed to him the wildest extravagance. But even while combating these scruples he had taken the apple from his bag, and was polishing it on his sleeve and holding it up to the light, the better to admire its exquisite color and smooth perfection. Suddenly he slung his pack on his shoulders again, picked up his staff, and began to climb the hill with feverish energy. He had feared that Luisa would be gone, but she was still in the field with her cows. The green edge of

the field made a long, grassy, horizontal line against the sky, and her slow walk, as she followed her cows along this ine, had a certain rhythmic beauty in it. "Luisa!"

She turned her head, stopped, and stood looking down upon him.

"Luisa, look!" And he held up the apple. "Catch!" and he threw it. She caught it dexterously, laughed, threw it in the air, caught it again, and put it in her pocket with a smile. When the smile had left her lips, she still stood looking down upon him with smiling eyes, but she did not speak; perhaps because the sprig of pear-blossom which she held between her teeth rendered speech impossible, perhaps because a natural indolence predisposed her to silence. Meanwhile, Peter, standing on the stony road, wished for the pearblossom, but dared not ask again for it; wished to begin a conversation but knew not how; and so after two or three uneasy minutes bade the girl farewell and resumed his journey.

But after walking fast for twenty minutes or more he halted at a certain turn in the winding path, and gazed upward. He was far below Luisa now, too far for speech, but he could see her distinctly, as she sat on the edge of the field with the apple in her hand. She had removed her handkerchief, and her beautiful dark head and charming face stood out in strong relief against the sky. Peter looked long at her, but he did not possess powers of divination, and the three weird sisters, who stood behind her and with grim, impassive countenances twisted his skein of lite, were invisible to him. He only saw girlish grace and youthful bloom glowing against vast depths of infinite azure; and yet it was with a deep sigh that he at last went his way.

Meanwhile Luisa tossed the sprig of pear-blossom, unasked, to a passing swineherd, and turning the pink apple in her hand with a laugh, set her strong white teeth deep in it.

II.

Peter found his place at Klobenstein satisfactory, and the work quite within

spread their simple meal; but always, just as she raised her hand to beckon him to a seat by her side, the dream broke, and he had to rise, weary and aching, and go about his daily task.

Now, too, apart from dreams by day and night, certain grave anxieties perplexed him. He wondered perpetually and uneasily whether Luisa were well

his powers; but he was not happy. Remembering was no longer the neverfailing source of delight which it had been hitherto. He lingered little now in the cow-stall, but spent all his spare time either sitting or lying on the hill outside, and gazing across the valley to the mountains beyond, where on fine days he could see Cavalese like a small white spot in the blue distance. In for-placed, well-housed, well-fed, above all, mer years memory would have peopled the rocks and hills, the vast pine forests which clad the mountain-side, and also the vineyards low down in the valley, with dancing nymphs and satyrs, with fairy kings and queens; but now he only saw a dark-haired girl driving her cows, or standing still and looking at him with the mysterious smile in the corners of her long brown eyes.

He saw her again at night, in the troubled dreams which had taken the place of his former quiet slumber. What leagues and leagues he walked in those dreams behind Luisa and her cows! Always within call, yet never within reach; forever moving on before him through vast stretches of green fields, yet always eluding nearer approach, until he would groan aloud for very weariness, and turn on his hard pallet and dream again, more painfully than before, for now he made his way through interminable pine forests, following Luisa as she flitted in and out among the red tree boles, playing an endless game of hide-and-seek; forever following, but never finding, for though now and again the bright face seemed near, in an instant the vision had dissolved into the wavering lights and shadows of the forests. Then with a sigh Peter would awake and toss, and turn and dream once more, the dream which always came just before the dawn. It never changed. In this dream he was with Luisa on the upper Alp, above the forest line, with the short, perfumed grass underfoot and the limitless sky overhead. No one was near, nor was there any sound, but of the cows cropping the soft grass and the summer wind whispering by. There was the round, flat stone, deep in heather and fern, where she had

whether she were well guarded. She was so pretty, and men, especially boys, were such rascals; if he could only have her under his own eye! And the fat landlord seemed an angel in disguise when he one day bade him seek for a cow-girl, offering at the same time wages which were far beyond anything paid on the other side of the Adige.

III.

The journey back to Cavalese, to fetch Luisa and her belongings to Klobenstein, seemed like the fulfilment of years of longing. And yet it was but six weeks since he first set eyes upon her, when he once more left the village in the early morning with Luisa's bag strapped upon his back, and Luisa herself moving lightly on beside him.

The June morning smiled as never morning had smiled before in Peter's life, and yet before the day was over a vague uneasiness had taken possession of his soul. It was not Luisa's fault, of course, but all the way down the mountain she had not spoken a word to him, and she had laughed and joked with every man they met. And then, when they reached Atzwang and prepared to climb the precipitous hill, she had sprung on like a young deer, only now and then glancing back and asking the way, but never halting for an instant, and only replying in monosyllables when addressed. But ever and anon her eyes smiled upon him, and Peter would take heart of grace and trudge on patiently.

They reached Klobenstein before night-fall, and after Ave Maria sat down, together with a dozen other peasants, at the round table upon which smoked the evening meal in a huge platter. Each peasant was provided

was transported by jealousy too, and this led him to commit many follies. He followed and watched Luisa perpetually, and for his reward had the pain of seeing young Lieutenant von Stendhorst hold his gold watch to her ear that she might hear it tick, and Prince Giovanelli's dignified white-haired valet try his respectable cap with its gold band on her pretty head, while he sub

tied her own kerchief under his chin.

with a long iron spoon to dip in the dish. Luisa was quite at her ease; but though she had been put by her mother under Peter's care, she would not sit next him, but slipped into a place on the opposite side of the table. All these trifling acts distressed and puzzled him; but he had voluntarily sought the office of guardian, an office not a sinecure at any time, and, as he was soon to discover, fraught with indescribable mis-mitted to be laughed at by her as she ery to a man in love. That mortal malady was upon him, but he did not recognize its symptoms. When he rose the next day, an hour before the early summer dawn, in order to do the heavier part of Luisa's work before she should come over to the stall; when, later in the day, the sun was hot on the fields, and he bade her sit still, while he ran about collecting the cows for the return to the stall-these acts would have enlightened many men as to their own feelings, but Peter was naturally unselfish, and really believed that he only wished to save the girl trouble. Luisa was apparently devoted to her work (it was not her fault if Peter did most of it), quiet, taciturn even, and with a tranquil indifference and indolence in her movements which was the reverse of flaunting; and yet she had not been twenty-four hours in the village before every marriageable peasant was aware of her presence, and more or less agitated by it. Although the nature of their avocations threw Peter and Luisa constantly together they were never alone. There was always a third and often more, for nearly every young peasant in or near the village managed to pass the cow-stall once or twice a day; and when the cows were led forth to the upper fields for their daily airing, youths seemed to crop up like mushrooms, even in the most solitary places, youths at whom Luisa would glance half shyly and half mockingly as she went by, and who ever after haunted her footsteps. Peter began to know the beating heart, the throbbing pulses, the ceaseless unrest, which is the portion of those who love in vain. In truth, his passion for the girl raged in

After such scenes Peter would heap reproofs, reproaches, and warnings upon Luisa; and then, when she, with undisturbed calm, had let fall a few large, bright tears, his heart would melt within him, and he would go to the shop and buy her a present. It was in this way that, in the course of a few weeks, he bought her a fine white cotton handkerchief with a border of pink roses for her neck, a Sunday gown of black woollen stuff, and a blue silk apron. Each gift meant repentance on his part, and forgiveness on Luisa's. Peter always felt like worshipping her when she forgave him and accepted his gifts; and then, she was always so calm; she never answered him angrily. But if she did not show temper, she still did as she pleased, and the tale of her admirers increased daily, while Peter's jealousy grew in proportion. When, after scolding her because of the attentions of the miller's Johann in the evening, he found long Seppel, from the upper Alp, at the cow-stall the very next morning, he might have seen that it was best for him to let the girl alone. But love laughs at logic, we are told, and Peter's way out of the difficulty was to ask her to marry him. He had not intended to do so, and did not know how he did it; the demand escaped from him unawares, and then he trembled at his own temerity. Luisa said nothing at first, but went on with her milking; then, when pressed for an answer, she murmured her usual, "Who knows?"

"At any rate, she did not say 'no,'" murmured foolish Peter, and thereupon he felt himself betrothed. "Now I shall his veins like a devastating fever. Hebe easy in my mind." he thought. But