along the walls of the verandah, pictures of cavalry soldiers, landscapes, all well drawn, but with a hard pencil—Faber No. 3, or No. 2 at least. Under each drawing was written "Adolphus Wengimanus fecit," with different dates. There was a print among them representing the distribution of prizes at a shooting match, with a lot of loving cups and flags, and in the middle the poet of the occasion, crowned with laurel, who looked just like Uncle Dolf.
Advancing thus from one picture to the next, Gerold turned the corner and came upon a little bridge. He stood before the balustrade, leaning his elbows on the top rail, with his head between his hands and his left foot on the lower rail of the balustrade as if in a stirrup. There he remained. The balustrade swarmed with earwigs which crawled around among the splinters as if in a forest. The wood had been carved with a pocket knife, and as he watched the earwigs he noticed that the carvings made letters. As these were lighter in colour than the background, he made out without difficulty that they spelled the interwoven names of Dolf and Marianneli. The combination of the two names was repeated all over the banister, sometimes coloured with ink and adorned with little garlands. In one of the combinations was written For ever and ever.
Below him, in the half-dry bed of the brook, near the bridge, Gesima and Hänsli were wading barefooted on a tour of exploration, with their arms waving like wings from their lifted elbows in their efforts to keep their balance. Hänsli was holding a boot in each hand, and Gesima had hung her shoes and stockings on the skipping rope which was wound, girdle fashion, around her waist. Her thin bare legs looked as if they had been tattooed, all covered as they were with white spots
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