Although scarcely a quarter hour elapsed until Vreni followed him, and although he had thought of nothing but his bliss and his love, dreaming of it and building castles in the air, he was yet surprised when Vreni suddenly stood at his side, smiling down at him, and with a start he rose. "Vreni," he exclaimed in a voice that trembled with love, and she, still and smiling, tendered both her hands to him. Hand in hand they then paced along the whispering corn, slowly down towards the river, and then as slowly back again, with scarcely any words. This short walk they repeated twice or thrice, back and forth, still, blissful, and quiet, so that this young pair now resembled likewise a pair of stars, coming and going across the gentle curve of the hillock and adown the declivity beyond, just as had once, years and years ago, the accurately measuring plows of the two rustic neighbors. But as they once on this pilgrimage lifted their eyes from the blue cornflowers along the edge of the field where they had rested, they suddenly saw a swarthy fellow, like a darksome star, precede them on their path, a fellow of whom they could not tell whence he had appeared so entirely without warning. Probably he had been lying in the corn, and Vreni shuddered, while Sali murmured with affright: "It's the black fiddler!" And indeed, the fellow ambling along before them carried under his arm a violin, and truly, too, he looked swarthy enough. A black crushed felt hat, a black blouse and hair and beard pitchdark, even his unwashed hands of that hue, he made the impression of a man carrying along an evil omen. This man led a wandering life. He did all sorts of jobs: mended kettles and pans, helped charcoal burners, aided in pitching in the woods, and only used his fiddle and earned money that way when the peasants somewhere were celebrating a festival or holiday, a wedding or big dance, and such like. Sali and Vreni meant to leave the fiddler by himself. Quiet as mice they slowly walked behind him, thinking that he would probably turn off the road soon. He seemed to pay no attention to the two, never turning around and keeping perfect silence. With that they felt a weird influence coming from the fellow, so that they had not the courage to openly avoid him and turning aside unconsciously they followed in his tracks to the very end of the field, the spot where that unjust heap of stone and rock lay, the one that had started the two families on their downward road. Innumerable poppies and wild roses had grown there and were now in full bloom, wherefore this stony desert lay like an enormous splotch of blood along the road.