This little town had attracted me by its position at the foot of high hills, by its old walls and towers, its hundred-year-old diadems, its steep bridges over the clear little brook which flowed into the Rhine, but above all by its good wine. And after sunset--it was in June--the loveliest of fair-haired Rhineland girls sauntered through the narrow streets and cried, "Good evening!" in their sweet tones to the stranger whom they met, some of them even lingering still when the moon rose behind the peaked roofs of the old houses, and the little stones of the pavement showed distinctly in her steady light. Then I delighted in strolling about the old town. The moon seemed to look down benignly from a cloudless sky, and the town received this glance and lay peacefully there wrapped in sleep and veiled in moonbeams--the light that at once soothes and vaguely stirs the soul. The weathercock upon the high, sharp spire gleamed in dull gold; long gleams of gold quivered on the dark surface of the stream; some dim lights--O thrifty German folk!--burned here and there in the small windows under the slated roofs; the vines stretched out mysterious fingers from the walls; something stirred perhaps in the shadow of the fountain in the little three-cornered market-place; suddenly the sleepy cry of the watchman sounded; then a good-natured dog growled in an undertone; and the air kissed the brow so softly, and the lindens smelled so sweet, that the breast involuntarily heaved quicker, and the word "Gretchen" rose to the lips, half a cry, half question. This little town of S---- lies about two versts from the Rhine. I went often to look at the majestic river, and would sit for hours upon a stone bench under a lonely, large oak, thinking, not without a certain exertion, of my faithless widow. A little statue of the Virgin, with a red heart pierced with swords upon her breast, looked sadly out from the leaves. On the opposite bank lay the town of L----, somewhat larger than the one in which I had established myself. One evening I was sitting in my favorite spot, looking in turn at the stream, the sky, and the vineyards. Before me some white-hooded urchins were climbing over the sides of a boat that was drawn up on the shore and lay there keel upward. Little skiffs with sails hardly swollen passed slowly along; green waves slid by with a gentle, rushing sound. All at once strains of music greeted my ears. I listened. They were playing a waltz in L----. The double bass grumbled out its broken tones, the violins rang clear between, the flutes trilled noisily. "What is that?" I asked an old man who approached me dressed in a plush waistcoat, blue stockings, and shoes with buckles. "That?" he replied, shifting his pipe from one corner of his mouth to the other. "Those are the students who have come from B---- to the _Commers_." "I will see this Commers," I thought. "Besides, I have not yet been in L----." I found a ferryman and crossed the river.