"To the day is the evil thereof."
"Ah, one must be happy with nothing to do."
"Then you have the ambition common to all; to sit around and let others
wait upon you?"
"No, that is not my ambition. I wish only to wait upon my own desires
and not those of the--the others."
"It is all the same," said I. "Some must serve, others must be served."
When I went upstairs to my room it was my belief that a week or so at
the inn would not hang heavy on my hands. I had forgotten for the
moment the Princess, or that I was hunting for Hillars. It is strange
how a face may upset one's plans. Gretchen's likeness to Phyllis, whom
I loved, upset mine for many days to come.
As I gazed from my window the next morning I beheld the old innkeeper
and Gretchen engaged in earnest conversation. He appeared to be
pleading, nay, entreating, while she merely shook her head and laughed.
Finally the old man lifted his hands to heaven and disappeared around
the wing. When I came down Gretchen was in the gardens culling roses.
She said they were for the table.
"Very well," said I; "give me one now."
"You may have them all at the table."
"But I shall not want them then."
She gave me an enigmatical glance, then cut a rose for me which was
withered and worm-eaten.
"Gretchen is unkind," I observed.
"What matters it whether the rose be fresh or withered? It dies sooner
or later. Nothing lasts, not even the world itself. You wish a rose,
not because it is a rose, fresh and fragrant, but because I give it to
you."
"You wrong me, Gretchen; I love a rose better than I love a woman. It
never smiles falsely, the rose, nor plays with the hearts of men. I
love a rose because it is sweet, and because it was made for man's
pleasure and not for his pain."
"That sounds like a copy-book," laughed Gretchen. "The withered rose
should teach you a lesson."
"What lesson?"
"That whatever a woman gives to man withers in the exchange; a rose, a
woman's love."
Said I reproachfully: "You are spoiling a very pretty picture. What do
you know about philosophy?"
"What does Herr know about roses?" defiantly.
"Much; one cannot pick too many fresh ones. And let me tell you a
lesson which you should have learned among these roses. Nature teaches
us to love all things fresh and beautiful; a rose, a face, a woman's
love."