THE WATER OF FORGETFULNESS

      In the round tower-room adorned with hunting equipments, antlers, and stuffed wild birds, sat a youth on a wooden stool, twisting a bow-string out of marten-sinews and singing a gay hunting song. His dress indicated that he was a huntsman; his short hair that he was a servant in the castle. His name was Heinz.
      >From the ceiling above the young fellow's head hung a swinging hoop, and in the hoop sat a gray falcon, with his wings tied and the hood over his eyes. From time to time the huntsman would stop his work and set the hoop which was gradually coming to a halt in quick motion again. This was to prevent the falcon from going to sleep, for it was a young bird and was to be trained for hunting: the breaking-in of a properly trained falcon begins with making him submissive through hunger and sleeplessness.
      Heinz had been the count's falconer, and the old master had kept the youth busy all the time. But now better days had come to him. The count hunted no longer, for he had been Lying silent and still, a whole year; in a stone coffin decorated with coats-of-arms; and his widow, Frau Adelheid, sat the whole day long with the chaplain and gave no thought to hunting affairs.
      To-day the mistress of the castle must have been tired of praying, for she came out of her apartments and wandered through the rooms of the fortress. The young fellow's song made a pleasing contrast to the monotonous, nasal chanting of the chaplain; she followed the voice, and entered the falconer's room in the tower.
      Heinz looked amazed when he saw the proud lady in her mourning veil and gray dress coming in. He rose and made a low, respectful bow. Frau Adelheid's brilliant eyes scanned the falconer's slender form, and she smiled graciously, and her smile seemed to the youth like May sunshine. The lady asked many questions about falconry and the chase; and when she took her departure, she gave the huntsman such a strange look that the bold lad turned his head on one side like a little fourteen-year-old girl.
      A few days afterwards it chanced that Frau Adelheid rode into the green forest on a milkwhite palfrey. She wore no gray clothes, however, but a dress of green velvet, and instead of the widow's veil, a sable-skin hat with curling feathers. Behind her rode Heinz, the young falconer, with the falcon on his wrist; and his blue eyes shone with delight.
      They had already ridden some distance, and the castle-tower had long before disappeared behind the widespreading branches of the beeches. Then Frau Adelheid turned her head and said “Ride by my side, Heinz.” And Heinz did as the lady commanded him. The path was narrow, and the countess' riding-dress brushed against the falconer's knee. Thus they rode along. The trees rustled softly, the chaffinches sang, and occasionally little forest creatures scampered across the path. Now and then there was a crackling of breaking branches, as some deer hastened into the woods, or a startled bird flew up with fluttering wings, and then deep silence lay over the forest again. And the lady of the castle turned her head a second time to the huntsman, and said, with a smile on her lips:—
      “ Now let me see, Heinz, whether you are a well-trained huntsman.
      “ 'Dear huntsman, tell me aright What mounts higher than falcon and kite ? “'
      Without stopping to think, Heinz replied:—
      “High mounts the hawk, and high mounts the kite, But the eagle takes a loftier flight.”
      And Frau Adelheid asked again:—
      “Dear huntsman, tell me true, What mounts higher than the eagle too?”
      The falconer thought a moment or two, then he answered:—
      “Still higher than all the birds that fly Mounts the bright sun-ball in the sky.”
      The countess nodded with satisfaction, and asked for the third time:—
      “Declare it to me, beloved one, What mounts still higher than the light of the sun?”
      Now the falconer's skill was at an end. He looked up to the tops of the trees, as if help might come to him from there, and then he looked down at the pommel of his saddle; but he had nothing to say.
      Then Frau Adelheid reined in her palfrey, bent towards the huntsman, and said in a low voice:—
      “The sun mounts high in the heavens above; But higher still mounts secret love.”
      She spoke these words, and threw her white arms about the lad's neck, and kissed his dark cheeks.
      Two nutcrackers, with blue wings, fluttered out of the hazel bushes and flew screaming into the woods to tell what they had seen; and the next morning the sparrows, which had their nests under the castle roof, twittered one to another:—
      “Tweet, tweet, The lady's love for the hunter's sweet.”
      Indeed, it was a fine time for falconer Heinz. He let his hair grow till it hung in yellow ringlets down over his shoulders, and he wore silver spurs and a heron's feather in his hat, and he built castles in the air, each one more glowing than the last.
      To be sure he owned no castles, but he was invested with a splendid forest lodge with antlers on the gable, and field and meadow land, and there he lived now as forester, and when his gracious lady came riding out to him, he would stand in the doorway and wave his hat to greet her, then lift Frau Adelheid down from the saddle, and entertain her with bread, milk, and honey.
      Thus the summer passed away, and the autumn, and half the winter, and it came to be Shrovetide. Then there was a great deal of visiting in the neighborhood, and the count's castle looked like an inn. But forester Heinz sat lonely in the huntsman's house, and only occasionally did the report of the merry doings at the castle come to his ears. Finally came news that was not altogether pleasing to poor Heinz. Frau Adelheid was to be married again, so the story went; and it fell on the young fellow's ear like a funeral bell.
      Then Heinz closed the door of his house and went on the way to the castle, muttering between his teeth all sorts of things that sounded not like prayers.
      When he came to the foot of the mountain, where the winding road leads up to the castle, he heard the sound of hoofs, and a laugh as clear as silver, that cut his heart like a two edged knife; and down the path came the lady of the castle on her white palfrey, and near her a handsome gentleman, richly dressed, bestrode a sleek black horse, and gazed with sparkling eyes at the beautiful woman by his side.
      Then it seemed to the young forester as though his heart would burst; but he controlled himself. He sat down on a stone, like a beggar, and as the pair drew near to him, he sang:—
      “The sun mounts high in the heavens above; But higher still mounts secret love.”
      The haughty knight reined in his steed, pointed with his whip at the huntsman, and asked his companion, “What does that mean? Who is the man?”
      The color left the countess' cheeks, but she quickly recovered herself, and said:—
      “A crazy huntsman. Come, let us hurry past him. It frightens me to be near him.”
      But the knight had opened his purse, and he threw a gold piece to the man by the wayside. Then Heinz cried aloud, and threw himself face downwards on the ground. But the riders spurred on their horses and rode hastily away.
      The sound of the hoofs had long died away before the unfortunate youth rose from the ground. He wiped the dust and dirt from his face, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and strode away into the forest. He hurried on aimlessly till nightfall. Then he threw himself down under a tree, wrapped his cloak about him, and sleep came over the exhausted man.
      Poor Heinz slept all night long without a dream, till the chill of dawn awoke him. But immediately his whole sorrow stood again before him and grinned at him like an evil spirit.
      “Oh, if I could forget,” he cried; “if I could only forget! There is a fountain, and if one drinks of its waters all the past vanishes from his memory. Who will show me the way to that spring?”
      “Here!” called a voice near at hand. “The water that causes forgetfulness I am very familiar with, and I will gladly tell you all that I know about it.”
      Heinz looked up and saw before him a youth in dark, tattered garments; his toes peeped inquisitively out of his shoes. He represented himself to be a travelling scholar, and went on to say:—
      “The water which makes one forget is called Lethe, and has its source in Greece. You will have to take a journey there and inquire the particulars on the spot. But if you wish to have it more conveniently, come with me to the tavern of the Purple Grape. It is not far from here.There the hostess will give you a taste of the water of forgetfulness, provided that your purse is longer than mine.”
      These were the scholar's words. Heinz arose and followed him to the forest inn. There they drank together all one day and half the night; and when, towards midnight, they lay peaceably on the bench, Heinz had forgotten everything that troubled and oppressed him. But with the morning light the tormenting recollection returned,- and he had a headache besides. Then he paid his own bill and his companion's, took a hasty farewell of the travelling scholar, and went on further.
      “Oh, who could forget!” he said as he went along, and beat his forehead with his fist. “I must find the fountain, or I shall be really insane.”
      By the wayside stood an old half-dead willow, and in the willow sat a raven, who turned his head toward the lonely wanderer and looked at him with curiosity.
      “Thou wise bird,” said the forester to the raven, “thou knowest everything that happens on the earth; tell me, where does the water of forgetfulness flow?”
      “I, too, should like to know that,” said the raven, “in order to drink of it myself. I knew a nest with seven fat, nut-fed dormice, and when I went yesterday to see what the dear little creatures were doing, the marten had taken the nest away from me and not a piece of it was left. And know, no matter where I go, I can think of nothing but my loss. Indeed, who can tell about the water of forgetfulness! But do you know something, dear fellow? Just go to the old woman of the forest, who is wiser than other people and perhaps knows the fountain of forgetfulness.” Thereupon the raven told the huntsman the way to the old woman of the forest. Heinz thanked him, and went on.
      The old woman was at home. She sat in front of her cottage, spinning, and nodding her white head. By her side a gray cat, with grass-green eyes, sat licking her paws and purring.
      Heinz stepped up to the old woman, greeted her respectfully, and made known his errand.
      “I know everything about the fountain of forgetfulness,” said the old woman of the forest, “and will not withhold a drink of its waters from you, poor boy. But no work, no pay: if you wish to have a glass of the precious drink, you must first perform three tasks for me. Will you do it?”
      “If I can.”
      “I do not expect impossibilities of you. To begin with, you shall cut down the wood behind my house. That is the first labor.”
      The young fellow consented. The old woman gave him an axe and led him to the place. Heinz stretched himself and swung the axe, and every time he struck a blow he imagined that he hit his rival, and the trees fell crashing beneath his mighty strokes, and the crashing did him good. Thus evening came on, and Heinz looked about for food, for he was very hungry. He did not have long to wait, for out of the house came a woman's figure, who placed a basket with food and drink beside the weary wood-cutter.
      As Heinz raised his eyes, he saw before him a wonderfully lovely face, framed in yellow hair, on which gleamed the last rays of the setting sun. It was the old forest woman's daughter. She looked at the sad young fellow with gentle eyes, and remained standing before him awhile. But as he said nothing, she went away again. Heinz ate and drank. Then he gathered together fir boughs and wood moss for a bed, laid himself down, and slept a dreamless sleep. But when he awoke in the morning, his sorrow awoke again too.
      Then he seized the axe and attacked the trees, so that the forest, for a mile around, resounded with his mighty blows. And when at evening the beautiful maiden came with his supper, Heinz did not look as sad as the day before; and because he felt that he must say something, he said, “Fine weather to-day.” Whereupon the maiden answered, “Yes, very fine weather,” and then nodded and went home.
      Thus seven days passed away, each one like the other, and on the seventh day the last tree was cut down The old forest woman came out, praised Heinz for his industry, and said, “Now comes the second task.”
      Then Heinz had to dig up the roots of the trees, break up the soil, plant corn, and sow seed. This took him seven weeks. But every evening, after his day's work was done, the old woman's daughter brought him his supper and sat near by on the trunk of a tree, and listened to Heinz as he told her about the outside world, and when he finished she gave him her white hand and said, “Good night, dear Heinz.” Then she went home, but Heinz looked about for a resting place and immediately fell asleep.
      When the seven weeks were gone, the old woman came and looked at his work, praised the youth for his industry, and said: “Now comes the third task. Now with the wood you have felled you must build me a house with seven rooms, and when you have finished that too, then you shall have a glass of the water of forgetfulness, and can go wherever you please.”
      Then Heinz became a carpenter, and with axe and saw he built a splendid house. To be sure, the work went on slowly at first, because Heinz worked without help; but that was not distasteful to him, for he enjoyed the green forest, and would have liked to live always near the old woman. lndeed, he sometimes thought still of his former sorrow, but only as one who has had a bad dream, and in the morning is glad that he has awakened from it. Every evening the forest woman's daughter came out to him, and they sang together, sometimes gay hunting songs, sometimes songs which told of parting, of unrequited love and joyful meetings.
      Thus seven months passed by. Then the house was finished from threshold to roof-tree. Heinz had placed a young fir-tree on the gable, and the maiden had made wreaths of fir-twigs and red berries from the mountain-ash, and trimmed the walls with them. The old woman came on her crutch, with the cat on her shoulder, to inspect the completed work. She looked very solemn, and in her hand she carried a goblet carved out of wood, and filled with the water of forgetfulness.
      “You have performed the three tasks which I have imposed upon you,” she said, “and now comes the reward. Take this goblet, and when you have emptied it to the last drop, then the past will be blotted out of your memory.”
      The forester hesitated as he reached out his hand towards the goblet.
      “Drink,” said the old woman, “and forget everything.”
      “Everything ? “
      “Yes, everything — your former sorrow, myself, and—”
      “And me, too,” said the beautiful maiden, and she held her hand before her eyes to keep back the rising tears.
      Then the youth seized the goblet and with his strong hand flung it to the ground, so that the sparkling drops of the water rained down on the grass, and he cried, “Mother, I will stay with you!”
      And before he knew what had happened to him, the maiden lay on his breast and sobbed for joy.
      And a rustling went through the trees, and the yellow corn all around nodded in the wind, the birds sang in the branches, and the odd woman's gray cat went purring round and round the happy pair.
      Now I could without much difficulty change the old woman into a beautiful fairy, her daughter to a princess, and the newly built house to a shining royal castle; but let us rather keep to the truth, and let everything be as it was.
      But something wonderful really did happen. Wherever a drop of the water of forgetfulness fell on the ground, there sprang up a little flower with eyes of heavenly blue. The flower has since spread over the whole land, and for those who do not know its name this story was not written.