And then--there comes the mysterious lullaby sung by the waters. Surely the young miller must have fallen asleep on the brink of the rivulet--a kiss will waken him and when he opens his eyes the miller-maid will be bending over him and saying. "Forgive me, I love you as much as ever." But nay--what is the meaning of those words about the small, blue crystal chamber? Why must he sleep till the ocean shall have drunk up the brook? And if the cruel maiden is to throw her kerchief into the brook that his eyes may be covered, why, then the sleeper cannot be lying on the water's brink, then he must be lying deep down--Trude covers her face with her hands and bursts into loud, convulsive sobs, and when Johannes still persists in reading to the end, she cries out "Stop, stop!" "Trude, whatever is the matter?" She beckons him to leave her alone; her weeping becomes more and more violent; her whole body sways, it seeks a support, it bends backwards. Johannes gives a terrified scream and springs forward, catching her in his arms. "For heaven's sake, Trude!" he gasps, breathing heavily. Beads of cold perspiration stand on his brow--but she bows her little head on his breast, flings her arms round his neck and cries her heart out.-- Next day Trude says: "I behaved very childishly yesterday, Hans, and I believe I only just missed falling down." "You were already sinking," he says, and a shudder passes through him at thought of that terrible moment. A sentimental smile crosses her face. "Then there would have been an end once and for all," she observes with a deep sigh, but forthwith laughs at herself for her silliness. The days pass by. Johannes has fulfilled Trude's keenest expectations as a play-fellow. The two have become inseparable; and Martin, the third of the party, can do nothing but look on silently and with a good-natured grumble say "Yea" and "Amen" to all their pranks. It is a pleasure to see them whizzing past, racing each other across the mill-yard as if they had wings to their feet. Trude flies along so that her feet hardly touch the ground, but in spite of that Johannes is the quicker of the two. Even if it takes time, she gets caught in the end. As soon as she finds that she cannot escape she cowers like a little frightened chicken; then when his arms encircle her triumphantly, her lithe body trembles as if his touch shook its very foundations. David, the old servant, very attentively watches these doings from a dormer window in the attic, which he makes his customary stand; there he begins scratching his head and mumbling all sorts of unintelligible things to himself. Trude notices him one day and laughingly points him out to Johannes. "We must play some trick on that old sneak," she whispers to him. Johannes tells her the amusing tale of how, years ago, he discovered the corner where the old fellow was in the habit of stowing away the flour he pilfered. "Perhaps we could do the same thing again?" he laughs.