And yet there lived in the
Krumerweg many a kind and loyal heart, stricken with poverty. In old
times the street had had an evil name, now it possessed only a pitiful
one.
It was half after nine when Gretchen and the vintner picked their way
over cobbles pitted here and there with mud-holes. They were arm in arm,
and they laughed when they stumbled, laughed lightly, as youth always
laughs when in love.
"Only a little farther," said Gretchen, for the vintner had never before
passed over this way.
"Long as it is and crooked, Heaven knows it is short enough!" He
encircled her with his arms and kissed her. "I love you! I love you!" he
said.
Gretchen was penetrated with rapture, for her ears, sharp with love and
the eternal doubting of man, knew that falsehood could not lurk in such
music. This handsome boy loved her. Buffeted as she had been, she could
separate the false from the true. Come never so deep a sorrow, there
would always be this--he loved her. Her bosom swelled, her heart
throbbed, and she breathed in ecstasy the sweet chill air that rushed
through the broken street.
"After the vintage," she said, giving his arm a pressure. For this
handsome fellow was to be her husband when the vines were pruned and
freshened against the coming winter.
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