Bertha had spent several days of solitude in calmness and peace. From the great hall she was serenaded by delightful music; the mirror had displayed all her favourite landscapes; and, though she was without any companion, and had the sole charge of the castle, yet her duties were by invisible hands rendered so light, that they seemed like a mere game contrived for her entertainment. Thus, one afternoon she stepped into the bark, in order to enjoy for some time the cool fragrant air on the water. The day was so lovely, that even the light fleecy clouds in heaven appeared to dance for joy as they were driven along by the zephyrs; there were also numberless singing birds that came flying round the castle towers, playing and chasing each other among the white flowers that grew thereon. They seemed to her like ambassadors, bearing joyful tidings from the world which she had been forbid to look upon, and yet insensibly the wish grew upon her, that she might indulge in one fleeting glance from out these lonely walls. “What harm,” said she to herself, “could possibly come of this? It is doubtful even whether I have rightly understood the lady’s admonition. Merely to look for a moment on that world, of which I was born to be an inhabitant, cannot surely have evil consequences.” Almost as soon as the thought was formed had Bertha turned the bark again towards the shore, and re-entered the castle. Then, as her aunt’s instructions not to look out from the windows had been less strict than against walking on the ramparts, she thought that she proved her self-command and obedience, by passing quickly through the inviting garden of snow-white flowers, and entering a chamber, at the window of which she had often seen her aunt when she was speaking with her brother from the battlements. In this room there was nothing mysterious, and immediately Bertha drew open the lattice, with its painted glass, and began to gaze out over the wide landscape.