When Gotthold reached the little wooden gate, which, shaded by a half-decayed linden-tree, afforded egress through the rough hedge on this side of the garden, he paused and glanced cautiously over the sunny fields towards the forest. He could not have endured to meet any one just now, perhaps be obliged to stop and answer a greeting or question. But he saw no one; all were in the great rye-field, where they had been toiling all day; the path to the forest was open. The sun shone with a fierce burning glow, and the heated air quivered over the wheat, which was already beginning to ripen, and whose stout stalks were unstirred by the faintest breeze; countless cicadas chirped and buzzed noisily on both sides of the narrow path that wound through the fields; a large flock of wild pigeons circled at no very great height in the air, and as they wheeled with lightning-like speed, the moving cloud glittered in the rays of the setting sun against the clear blue sky like a shield of polished steel. Gotthold saw all this, because he was accustomed to live with nature, and even felt the electricity that pervaded the atmosphere, but only as being perfectly in harmony with the conflict that oppressed his heart. Shame had long since dried the burning tears grief had forced from his eyes; shame for having, by his want of self-control, produced this scene, in which, after eight long days of torture, he had finally played the undignified part of the third person, only to learn that she still loved this man, and her unhappiness consisted in the knowledge that she was not as much beloved by him as she desired to be. "On your honor, Gotthold, did he tell you so?" In what a despairing tone she had uttered the words! How the dread of hearing a "yes" had disfigured her beautiful face! "Is this your boasted friendship?" Yes, his friendship, with which he had been troublesome to her years before, with which he was troublesome now, only that he could no longer hide himself behind its mask as in those days, only that he no longer had the poor consolation of being able to slip away unnoticed and unperceived, as he had done that night.