and built an inn there, guests filled it so rapidly that he soon put up another.  Soon, one after another, little inns sprang up, as from the ground, and then a crowd of trades-people came up from the valley, and settled around, for the number of guests constantly increased, and the strangers found the spot so favorable to health, that it became a favorite winter resort.  And thus the obscure little Fohrensee became, in a few years, a large and flourishing town, stretching out in every direction.

Gertrude, however, walking sturdily along with the children, was not going as far as Fohrensee, with its shining white houses.  She turned off into a foot path that led to several scattered dwellings up on the hillside, and soon reached an open space, on which stood a handsome house, with large stables near by.  Out from the stable, a hostler had just led a spirited horse, which he began to harness into a light wagon.  Instantly the little boy freed his hand from his mother’s, planted himself before the horse, and could not be induced to move.

“Stay there then, if you want to,” said his mother, “we will go on to the house; but you must take care not to go too near the horse.”

The doctor was just hurrying out from his office; he must have had a long distance to go, for he was starting off before the usual time for office hours was over.  Gertrude apologized, and begged the doctor to excuse her for not having come earlier to see him; she had been very busy with her invalid, and could not get away before.  “Never mind; as you have come, I will wait a few minutes,” said the physician, briefly; “Come in; how is your husband?”

Gertrude went into the room, and told the doctor about her sick husband.  It was Steffan, a strong, young man, on whom the mountain sickness had seized with unusual violence.  The doctor silently shook his head.  He took a small mortar that stood on the office table, and shook into it some stuff which he ground with the marble pestle.  His eyes fell on the child who stood by Gertrude’s side, gazing earnestly at the doctors’s occupation.  The little creature had something unusual about her, and attracted attention at once.  Under her thick black hair and heavy brows, her big eyes looked forth with a solemn gaze, as if everything she saw gave her food for thought.

“He had no one but himself to blame for it, I fancy,” said the doctor, as he filled some small square papers with his powders.

“No, no! he was not the least of a brawler; he was a quiet industrious fellow.  They had rented some of our rooms, and lived there peaceably and happily for three whole years, and never was an unkind word exchanged between them.  But he was a stranger in these parts; he was never called anything but the Bergamasker, and the other fellows could never forgive him for having won the prettiest and most courted girl in the whole village.  They never ceased to tease and irritate him, and on this especial evening at