Just about then I lost all the companions with whom I used to play at marbles in days gone by, and they were not replaced. One of them already went out on Sabbath with a satin skirt and a watch and chain. It was soon to be her wedding. Others were "Kallah-Mädlich";[13] match-makers and future fathers-in-law were "breaking in the doors," and there was combing and washing and dressing, when _I_ was still going barefoot, in an old bodice and a short skirt and a faded cotton waist, which had burst in several places right in front, and which I had patched with calico of a different color. The "Kallah-Mädlich" avoided me, and I was ashamed to play with younger children; besides, marbles amused me no longer. So I never showed myself in the street by day. Mother never sent me out on errands, and one day when I intended to go somewhere, she prevented me. I often used to slip out after dark, and walk about behind the house near the barns, or else sit down beside the river. In summer time, I sat there till quite late at night. Some evenings, mother would come out after me. She never came up to me, but would stand in the gateway, look round--and I could almost hear the sigh she gave as she watched me in the distance. That also came to an end in time; I would sit by myself there for hours, listening to the noise of the little mill stream, watching the frogs jump out of the grass into the water, or following a cloud through the sky. At times I would fall half asleep with my eyes open. One evening I heard a melancholy song. The voice was young and fresh, and yet the song thrilled me with emotion; it was a Jewish song. "That is the Röfeh-boy singing," I said to myself. "Another would have sung hymns, not a song." I also said to myself that one should go indoors, so as not to hear it or meet the Röfeh-boy, and yet I remained sitting; I was in a dreamy state, with no energy to move, and I sat on, though my heart was beating anxiously. The song drew nearer; it was coming from the opposite bank--across the bridge. Already I hear steps in the sand, I want to run away, but my limbs are disobedient, and I remain sitting. At last he comes to the spot where I am. "Is it you, Leah?" I do not answer. The noise in my ears is louder than ever, the hammering in my temples, busier, and it seems to me the kindest and sweetest voice I ever heard. My not answering matters little to him, he sits down beside me on the log, and looks me straight in the face. I do not _see_ his look, because I dare not raise my eyes, but I feel how it is scorching me. "You are a pretty girl, Leah," he says, "it's a pity to hide yourself." A dreadful crying fit seizes hold of me, and I run away.