fled when her heavy day's work was over. There of an evening she
stood, gazing thoughtfully out into the darkening twilight, and
there daily she greeted the rising sun, repeating aloud her morning
prayer. Then with eager hands she took from the book-case one of the
large folios. From these books Anna Sophia drew all her knowledge.
And when, during the long winter evenings, the village girls were
busy spinning, she would tell them the stories she had read, no hand
was idle, no eye drooping. She was looked upon as the guardian angel
of the village; she knew some remedy, some alleviation for every
illness, every pain. In a sick-room, she was all that a nurse should
be, kind, loving, patient, and gentle. She was beloved by all, and
all the village boys sought to gain her hand. For a long time she
would listen to none of them, and flew in terror from those who
broached the subject.

How the youngest son of the old shepherd Buschman had finally won
her heart, she did not herself know. It is true, he was the
handsomest, best-made boy in the village, but it was not for this
that she loved him; for she had known him long ago, and had been
perfectly indifferent to him, until within the last few weeks. Why
was it? Because he loved her so dearly, and had told her he would
die if she did not listen to him. Many others had done and said the
same thing, but it had never moved her sensibilities, nor had their
threats terrified her. What, then, had won her cold, proud heart?

The old shepherd had been the occasion of their frequently meeting
each other. For some weeks she had been in the habit, when her day's
work was over, of reading to him the daily paper, which the good-
hearted burgher always sent to the old man, who had six sons in the
king's army; he had given his country six soldiers.