صفحة 224 من 788

Now a branch shakes from the touch of some one's hand, and

between the parted clusters of the service berries shines a face

more fair than they. It is a maiden gathering berries or nuts; in

a basket of simple bark she offers you freshly gathered

cowberries, rosy as her lips. By her side walks a youth who bends

down the branches of the hazel tree; the girl catches the nuts as

they flash by her.

Now they have heard the peal of the horns and the baying of the

hounds; they guess that a hunt is drawing near them; and between

the dense mass of boughs, full of alarm, they vanish suddenly

from the eye, like deities of the forest.