Volume Iii Part 12 (1/2)

He lived alone, a silver-haired man. A brother, and his wife and daughter-in-law, had, many years ago, been buried under a landslip.

A son, a younger brother, and a son of the latter, had obeyed the call of King Witichis to arms, and had never returned from the siege of Rome.

So no one was left to the old man but his two grandchildren, the boy and girl of the son who had fallen.

The sun had set gloriously behind the mountains which bordered the incomparable Etsch valley in the blue distance to the south and west.

A warm golden l.u.s.tre lay upon the tender porphyry colouring of the ”Iffinger,” making it glow like red wine.

Up the mountain slope, upon the top of which stood a dwelling-house with a row of stalls a little apart, climbed slowly, step by step, resting ever and again, and holding her hands over her eyes as she looked at the sunset, a child--or was it already a maiden?--who was driving a flock of lambs before her.

She now and then gave her _protegees_ time to crop with dainty tooth the aromatic Alpine herbs which grew in their path, and beat time with the hazel stick which she carried to an ancient and simple melody, the words of which she was softly singing:

”Little lambkins, Follow freely; By your shepherd's Hand led heedful; Like the heaven's Lovely lambkins, Like the quiet Steady stars, that s.h.i.+ning, sparkling, Obey ever Their bright shepherd, Mustered by the Mild moon ever, Without trouble, Without pause.”

She ceased, and bent forward to look over into a deep ravine on her left hand, which had been hollowed out in the steep slope by a rapid mountain brook. Now, being summer, the water was very shallow. On the opposite side the hill again rose steeply upward.

”Where can he be?” the girl said; ”usually his goats are already descending the hill when the sun has turned to gold. My flowers will fade soon!”

She seated herself upon a stone near the path, let the lambs graze, laid the hazel stick beside her, and allowed the ap.r.o.n of sheepskin, which, till now, she had held up carefully, to fall. A shower of the loveliest Alpine flowers fell to the ground.

She began to wind a wreath.

”The blue speik will suit his brown hair the best,” she said as she worked busily. ”I get much more tired when I drive the flock alone than when he is with me. And yet then we climb much higher. I wonder how it is! How my naked feet burn! I might go down to the brook and cool them.

And then I should see him sooner when he comes along the height. The sun does not scorch any more.”

She took off the large broad pumpkin leaf which she wore instead of a hat; and now was seen the s.h.i.+ning colour of her pale golden hair--so fair it was!--which, stroked back from the temples, was tied together at the back of the head with a red ribbon. Like a flood of sunbeams it rippled over her neck, which was only covered by a white woollen kirtle, that, confined at the waist with a leather girdle, reached a little above the knees.

She measured the size of her wreath on her own head.

”Certainly,” she said, ”his head is larger. I will add these Alpine roses.”

Then she tied the two ends of the wreath together with delicate gra.s.ses, sprang up, shook the remaining flowers from her lap, took the wreath in her left hand, and turned to descend the steep declivity, at the foot of which the brook gurgled amid the stones.

”No! stop up here and wait! Thou, too, darling White Elf! I will come back directly.”

And she drove back the lambs, which had tried to follow, and which now, bleating, looked wistfully after their mistress.

With great agility the practised girl sprang down the ravine; now holding fast to the tough shrubs, spurge-olives, and yellow willow; now boldly leaping from rock to rock.

The loose stones broke and the fragments came rattling after her. As she merrily jumped after the rolling pebbles, she suddenly heard a sharp and threatening hiss from below.

Before she could turn, a great copper-brown snake, which had no doubt been disturbed from sunning itself on a stone, coiled itself up, ready to dart at her naked feet.

The child was alarmed; her knees trembled, and screaming loudly, she called:

”Adalgoth, help! help!”

A clear voice immediately replied to this cry of fear with the words, ”Alaric! Alaric!” which sounded like a battle-cry.