might await my coming at the hermitage, instead of wandering out, and thus in the end meet me and Liesli together. “My thanks for this which you have confided to me, and which is of such great worth, I will bring with me also to-morrow,” I added ironically, for of what great value could that be which the poor hermit had put into my hand; he, for whom Liesli but a few hours before had gathered herbs, that he might exchange them for provisions.
“May your sleep be sweet and tranquil,” added he, seriously, “and pray late and early, that you may not fall into the snares of temptation, and that the wicked one may have no power over you. The world is full of suspicion, and there are many who depend upon the happiness which to-morrow may bring them, and yet, being often caught in their own net, fancy all the while it has been laid for them by others.—Good night, stranger.”
With these words he left me, and proceeded on his way to the hermitage. I, however, hastened after the beloved shadow of Liesli, but no further traces of her were to be perceived. No doubt she had long retired to rest, and was enjoying the sweet repose of innocence when I had reached the inn, where, excited by my impatient curiosity, I ordered a candle, and immediately began to examine the contents of the valuable present which I had received from the hands of the poor hermit.
What was my surprise, when I beheld my own three pieces of gold—I was completely petrified! Was, then, the hermit a conjuror? Was Liesli merely a being presented to my imagination by some deceiving malignant spirit? I shuddered as I thought that the old emaciated form of the anchorite, and that of the beautiful Liesli, blooming in all her charms—might be one and the same! How came he in possession of the money? Now it was I called to mind his words at parting; what could he mean by saying “those who hope to be happy on the morrow”—what should these words portend? What could the old man have to do with the blooming girl?
