The garden, elsewhere so carefully and artistically tended, stretching from the Leipsic Street to the Palisades, which surrounded the town in lieu of a wall at that time, was here overgrown with underwood, protecting the more beautiful parts like a quickset hedge.  But this bush was, besides, surrounded by a high wall, running immediately next to the Palisades, and bounding the whole back part of the garden.  It was seldom that any one wandered in this neighborhood, and Elise was certain, therefore, that no inquisitive eye could watch her, no treacherous ear listen to her half-whispered words.

She seated herself on a bench under a tree, not far from the wall, and looked up dreamingly and thoughtfully at the patches of blue sky visible through the tree-tops.  Her whole soul was sunk in reminiscence.  Ah, how often had she sat here, but not alone—­not with this painful longing in her heart, but in the fullest contentment of happiness, listening with delighted ear to words spoken by him who sat next to her, holding her hand in his, and gazing on her with looks which made her heart tremble with happiness!  Here, on this spot, he had taken leave of her, and since then it had become, as it were, the temple of her recollections, to which she daily made her pilgrimage to offer up her devout, sincere, and ardent prayer of love.

She sat and looked up to heaven, and her ear, dwelling on words which had died away long ago, did not hear sounds which were perceptible on the other side of the wall.  It appeared as if some one were striving to climb it, and indeed there could be now seen a hand feeling about, and then a man’s figure rising above the wall.

Cautiously spying around, large flashing eyes looked into the garden.  One moment the figure rested upon the wall, as if exhausted by the exertion, or listening for some sound.  It was a young man, in the garb of a peasant, who sat upon the wall; but the heavy, black mustache little suited this peaceful dress, and his bold air, verging on insolence, seemed to challenge the dangers which surrounded him.

He rested for a moment on the wall, and listened attentively.  Then he drew a pistol from his breast, and examined carefully its lock and barrel.  He then cocked it, and holding it in one hand, began carefully and noiselessly to descend.  With one leap he sprang to the ground; the leaves rustled under his feet, and again he stood motionless in a listening attitude.  His glance was as keen and bright as that of an eagle, and it seemed to penetrate the dark foliage.  Suddenly a light flashed across his countenance, and a smile of delight played about his lips.  He had seen the young girl, who was seated on the bench lost in deep thought, and that he had recognized her was betrayed by his animated expression.  Quietly, carefully, he drew nearer, ever and again standing still and listening.  Then he stood close behind her at the tree.  Again he listens, but every thing is silent and hushed.  Now he calls her softly by name, and whispers almost inaudibly, “Elise!”