. The German classics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; masterpieces of German literature. e neversaw the Sun, girl. Let him be. Come. Follow me. Be warned, or thou wilt rue![Exit into hut. Cries of Heinrich! Hein-rich! Rautendelein listens for a mo-ment. Then she suddenly breaks a flowerytwig from a hough, and draivs a circle withit round Heinrich as she speaks the fol-lowing lines.]Rautend. With the first fresh buds of Spring, Lo, I draw the magic ring!Safe from every harm and thou art. It is my will!Thou art thine, and thine, and may cross the mystic line!Be thou
. The German classics of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries; masterpieces of German literature. e neversaw the Sun, girl. Let him be. Come. Follow me. Be warned, or thou wilt rue![Exit into hut. Cries of Heinrich! Hein-rich! Rautendelein listens for a mo-ment. Then she suddenly breaks a flowerytwig from a hough, and draivs a circle withit round Heinrich as she speaks the fol-lowing lines.]Rautend. With the first fresh buds of Spring, Lo, I draw the magic ring!Safe from every harm and thou art. It is my will!Thou art thine, and thine, and may cross the mystic line!Be thou youth, or man, or thou surely must be stayed![She hides behind the trees in shadoiv. Enterone after the other, from the wood. TheVicar, The Barber, and The School-master.]Vicar. I see a light. ScHOOLM. And I! Vicar. AMiere are we now? Barber. God only knows. Again I hear that cry OfHelp! Help! Help!Vicar. It is the Masters voice! ScHooLM. I heard no cry. Barber. It came from yonder height. ScHOOLM. If one fell up to Heaven, that might be, But, as a general rule, one tumbles — down:. Permission Amsler 6* Ruthardt, Berlin INTERMEZZO I Max Klinger THE SUNKEN BELL 123 From cliff to vale, and not from vale to cliff. The Master lies — Id stake my soul upon t — Full fifty fathoms deeper: not up Ods bodikins! Did you not hear him then ? If that was not the voice of Master Heinrich, May 1 be set to shave old Riibezahl! As I m a living barber, I will swear I heard a Where from? Vicar. What place is this? Ere we continue, tell me that, my friends. My face is bleeding; I can hardly drag One foot after another. How they ache! Ill go no Voice. Help! Vicar. Again that voice! Barber. And this time it was close to where we stand!Vicar (sitting wearily). Im racked with pain. Indeed, my worthyfriends, I can no more. So leave me, in Gods name. In truth, though you should beat me black andblue. You could not make me budge another step. I am worn
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