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You have eighteen hours, before you will be discovered. Hark! it strikes seven, and it is already quite dark. When the post-horn sounds, then it is time." "Oh, Trude! my dear mother, my heart almost ceases to beat, with anxiety, and I quake with fear," sighed Marie. "I am conscious that I have commenced a fearful undertaking!"
The door closed behind them. Elise was alone. She stood and listened to their departing steps; she heard the house door open; she heard the post-horn once more sound out merrily, and then cease. "I am alone!" she screamed, with a heart-rending cry. "They are gone; I am alone!"
But his rest was like a delirium. The post-horn sounded in the empty street; they rolled away it was at daybreak. "Is that a gallows?" inquired one of the travellers, and pointed toward the hill, where at this distance the cross looked like a stake. "That is the cross of the holy Anders!" replied Otto; and livingly stood before him the recollections of the evening before.
Meanwhile a pleasant interruption occurs in the post-horn winding loud and clear along the settlement. This is an event of rare occurrence in the back woods, where the want of a regular post communication is much felt, not so much in matters of worldly importance in business these being generally transacted without the medium of letters as by those who have loved ones in other lands.
On the edge of this green cauldron the Corsicans and my comrades sat like so many witches, their figures magnified uncannily against the void; and far beyond, above the rose-coloured crags, deep-set in miles of transparent blue, shone the snow-covered central peaks of the island. As I rounded the corner, Mr. Fett hailed me with a shout and a vocal imitation of a post-horn.
The king paid no attention to all this. His ear was so accustomed to these noises, that it seemed like perfect silence to him. He was so buried in his work, that even the unwonted tumult which now arose was unperceived by him; nor did he notice that a carriage drove into the palace-yard, its post-horn sounding loud and merrily.
Suddenly the loud, quivering tones of the post-horn were heard, "Es ritten drei Reiter zum Thore hinaus." "He has come!" cried Marie, and her face beamed with delight. "He calls me! I am coming! Farewell, dear, peaceful room, where I have so toiled, wept, and suffered! I shall never see thee again! My beloved calls me, and I go to follow him even unto death! Pardon me, O God!
I have worked for them when they needed it; now their adopted son, to whom they have sold their name, allows them a yearly rent, and I can work for myself." "Hark! there is the post-horn again, you must go," murmured Trude, struggling to force back her tears. "Bless me, mother," implored Marie, kneeling.
I do not know whether he sang any more, for I had stretched myself on a bench outside the door, and I fell asleep in the warm air from sheer exhaustion. A couple of hours must have passed, when I was roused by the winding of a post-horn, which sounded merrily in my dreams for a while before I fully recovered consciousness.
The post-horn tooted merrily, dogs barked, and stableboys raised a good-by cheer! Out past Harvard Square they went, through Arlington and storied Lexington on to Concord through Fitchburg, to Greenfield. It doesn't take long to tell it, but that was a wonderful trip for Phillips the greatest and most important journey of his life, he said forty years later.
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