“Jan, my dear friend, pardon me what I have said and done. I have behaved cruelly and wickedly to thee; but thou must remember, Jan, that I have suffered so much through thee.” “Lauw!” exclaimed the stranger with emotion, and shaking his hand, “that was the violence of our youth. See how little I thought of thy enmity, for I felt myself infinitely happy when I heard thee name my name. And for that I am grateful to thee, though thy bitterness has gone to my heart. But tell me, Lauw, where is Rosa buried? She will rejoice in heaven, when she sees us thus as reconciled brothers stand upon her last resting-place.” “How?—Rosa buried!” exclaimed the grave-digger. “Would to God that she were buried, poor thing!” “What meanest thou?” cried the traveler: “does Rosa yet live?” “Yes, she lives,” was the answer, “if that terrible fate that she has to endure can be called life.” “Thou terrifiest me. For God’s sake tell me what calamity has happened to her?” “She is blind.” “Blind? Rosa blind! Without eyes to see me? Wo, wo is me!” Overwhelmed by anguish, he advanced with uncertain steps to the bench, and sunk down upon it. The grave-digger placed himself before him, and said— “For ten years has she been blind—and begs her daily bread. I give her, every week, two stivers: and, when we bake, we always remember her with a little cake.” The traveler sprung up, shook powerfully the grave-digger’s hand and said— “A thousand thanks! God bless thee for thy love to Rosa! I pledge myself in his name to reward thee for it. I am rich, very rich. By evening we will see one another again. But tell me now, at once, where Rosa is to be found: every moment is to me a hundred years of suffering.” With these words, he drew the grave-digger along with him, and directed his steps toward the church-yard gate. Arrived there, the grave-digger pointed with his finger, and said— “See there, by the side of the wood, there rises a smoke from a low chimney. That is the house of besom-binder Nelis Oom: she lives there.” Without waiting for further explanation, the traveler hastened through the village toward the indicated spot. He was soon at the dwelling. It was a low hut, built of willow-wands and clay, but on the outside neatly white-washed. Some paces from the door, four little children were playing and amusing themselves, in the bright sunshine, with planting in circles blue corn-flowers and red poppies. They were bare-foot and half-naked: the eldest, a boy of about six years old, had nothing whatever on but a linen shirt. While his little brother and sisters looked at the stranger with fear and shyness, the boy let his eyes rest steadily on the unknown one, full of curiosity and wonder.