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Show Chapter 2 Even though the rain had turned to a steady drizzle that wet my shirt thoroughly, I was glad to be out in the open. Only rarely was I allowed out of the bakery, which was why I looked so pale-skinned, The rain felt chilly for the fifth of June, and my toes were soon wet and cold. I had no proper shoes - only pieces of cowhide, worn and split, wrapped around my feet and tied at the ankles. I shivered, but I didn't mind the discomfort because I was so anxious to see the stranger again. I heard him before I saw him. As I came close to the bridge which crossed the River Weser, strange music drifted upward, and I knew he was playing his flute. The melody was eerie - it made me shiver more than I had from the chill dampness. It sounded not at all like our German minnesong, or like the sacred music sung in church. I paused for a moment to listen to the haunting tune, but it soon stopped. "Geist?" he called out. "Here I am." I scrambled down the bank. In the gray half-light I could hardly make him out. He was beneath the arch of the bridge, leaning against the stones, his cloak wrapped around him with the hood pulled down to his eyes. He looked like a shadow, but the silver flute in his hand shone with a faint glimmer of brightness. "were you are," he echoed me, and I thought he smiled, but in the dimness I couldn't be sure. |