“Earth is set free and flowers
                    In all the meads are springing,
                    The balmy noontide hours
                    Are sweet with odors rare;
                    The hills for joy are leaping. 
                    The happy birds are singing,
                    And now, while winds are sleeping,
                    Soar through the sunny air.

Now hearts begin to kindle
And burn with love’s sweet anguish
As tapers blaze and dwindle. 
Love, our lady! lend thine ear! 
Would’st thou but spoil our pleasure? 
Ah, leave us not to languish! 
Who vows to thee his treasure,
Haughty lady, must beware.”

We had sung so much as this when the sound of hoofs, of which we had already been aware on the soft soil of the woods, gave us pause.  Then, behold!  Ann turned pale and pressed her hands, full of the roses she had chosen for her garland, tightly to her bosom, as though in pain.  Junker Henning, who, while she sang, had gazed at her devoutly, nay, in rapture, marked this gesture and leaped to his feet to succour her; but she commanded herself with wonderful readiness, and laughed as she showed him her finger, from which two drops of blood had fallen on her white gown.  And while the garden-gate was opening, she held out her hand to the young man, saying in haste:  “Pricked,—­a thorn!—­would you please to take it out for me, Junker?”

He seized her hand and held it long in his own, as some jewel or marvel, before he remembered that he was required to take out the thorn.  The other gentle men, and among them my brother-in-law Paulus, had likewise sprung forward to lend their aid; he, indeed, had snatched his lace neck-tie off and dipped it in the fountain.

Meanwhile the new-comers had joined the circle:  First, Duke Rumpold, then Jost Tetzel, and lastly Herdegen with Ursula.

I flew to meet him, and when he held me in his arms and kissed me, and wished me joy of my betrothal right heartily, I forgot all old grievances and only rejoiced at having him home once more; till Ursula greeted me, and Herdegen came in sight of Ann.  She had remained sitting under the lime-tree, on a saddle cushion of blue velvet, as on a throne; and in truth meseemed she might have been a queen, as she graciously accepted the service of the gentlemen who had been so moved by her pricked finger.  The Junker wrapped it with care in a green leaf which, as his lady grandmother had taught him, had a healing gift; Paulus held forth the laced kerchief, and the Italian was striking wailing tones from his lute.

All this to-do, at any other time would, for a certainty, have made sport for me, but now laughing was far from me, and I had no eyes but for Ann in her little court, and for my brother.

At first she feigned as though she saw him not; and whereas the Junker still held her hand, she hit his fingers with a pink, albeit she was never apt to use such unseemly freedom.