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In the early morning Irmgard walked through the dewy grass to the forest; a white mist floated over the ground, and hung round the trees like the dress of the water spirits. Out of the mist of the meadows rose the bright figure of the noble maiden; she was singing and shouting, with rosy cheeks and long floating hair, and with a happy heart; thus she passed through the circling clouds like the goddess of the fields. For she had learned what was heroic, and what raised man from the fear of death into the company of the high gods; all her countrymen had bowed before the heroic power of one who was secretly pleasing to her, and in whom she had more confidence than in any other. She mounted the hill-path, up to a spot where her father's hall was hidden behind the foliage of the trees; there she stood alone between the forest and the rock. Under her roared the waterfall, over her soared the light clouds of the coming day. She stepped upon a stone, and sang to the rocks and to the rushing water the melody of the minstrel, and the words of the song which she had heard in the hall. She gave forth joyfully what had clung to her memory from the skill of Volkmar; and when she came to the leap into the Rhine, it delighted her so much that she sang with enthusiasm:

"Ye wise birds on the trees, messengers of the gods, and ye little fitchets under the fern bushes, hear it yet again." And she repeated the words; and as the Hero at last vanished into the stream, his disappearance was so sorrowful to her, that, being full of imagination, she poured out her emotions in words of her own, and sang yet again the lament of the minstrel. Her song echoed from the rocks, above the notes of the forest birds and the soft murmur of the mountain stream.

Then near her a pebble rolled into the brook. She looked to the side from whence it came, and perceived a figure which, veiled in the airy web of the Nixy, leaned against the stem of a tree beneath her; the Hero whose honor she had been proclaiming to the woods was standing in the flesh close to her, and as she stepped back frightened, she heard his supplicating voice:

"Sing on, Oh noble maiden, that I may hear from thy lips what makes me happy. Dearer to me are the tones from thy throat than all the skill of Volkmar. For as the minstrel sang, and the hall resounded with the acclamations of the men, I thought ever on thee, and my proudest pleasure was that thou heardest the news."

"In terror at sight of thee, words fail me," answered Irmgard, endeavoring to compose herself as he drew nearer to her. "I had more courage to speak to thee under the elder tree," she continued at last; "even then, oh Hero, thou hadst little need of my counsel; and when I think of it, I can not but wonder at my folly: do not thou, therefore, deride me. For just in that way we forest people speak out, and our thoughts are very simple. But it grieves me that thou shouldst twice have heard from my mouth what thou already knewest; had I known thee as thou art, I should have known better how to conceal my good opinion: and now shame oppresses me, because thou hast listened to me."

"Conceal nothing from me, Irmgard," implored the guest; "if thou art favorably disposed toward me, then, believe me, seldom has a banished man heard such cheering words from the lips of a kind woman. Even when the minstrel praised him, and the host drank to him, still he stood shut out from family and friendship. Seldom does a chief grant to an outcast his daughter as wife, and the fugitive leaves no son on the earth to extol his deeds."

Irmgard looked down seriously. "But do thou," continued Ingo, "suffer me to acknowledge the secret that I bear in my soul. Do not despise my confidence; sit here on the stone, that I may impart it to thee."

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