he would, and soon thereafter set out upon his journey, feeling a bit apprehensive at the labors that lay before him. But he really had no desire to turn back now like a coward and take the train instead. So he kept on walking, stopping often to ask for directions to avoid making a false turn. When he reached a signpost where two paths diverged, he would light a match and hold it up at the necessary height to see in which direction a path continued. He walked with frenzied speed, as if the path might slip from beneath his feet and run away. Rosa’s red wine was burning in his veins, and he only wished the mountains would come soon, feeling with what pleasure and ease he would conquer them, and so he arrived in the first village but had some difficulty finding his way among all the different roads, which crisscrossed in all possible directions. Calling out to a blacksmith who was still hammering away, however, he learned that he was on the right road, and next came a landscape that was all blurry, consisting of nothing but bushes; the path was leading uphill; and then came a sort of plateau that was somehow frightening. It was pitch black, not a star in the entire sky; now and then the moon came out, but the clouds would conceal its light again. Walking next through a dark fir forest, Simon began to gasp for breath and paid more attention to where he set his feet; for he kept tripping over stones in the path, and this he found rather irksome. The fir forest came to an end, and Simon breathed more freely — walking in dark woods all alone like that is not without its dangers. A large farmhouse suddenly stood before him as if it had sprung up from beneath the earth, blocking his view, and a large dog came shooting out and lunged at the walker but didn’t attack. Simon calmly and quietly stopped in his tracks, staring at the dog, and so the dog didn’t dare bite him. Onward! Bridges came that rang out thunderously beneath his rapid steps, for they were made of wood, old wooden bridges with roofs and pictures of saints at either end. Simon began to walk with mincing steps to entertain himself. As he passed through the open but gloomy fields, a heavy-set man suddenly stood before him, shouting and glaring at him ferociously. Simon shouted in turn, “What do you want?” but then dodged around the man and ran off without waiting to hear what the man wanted. His heart was pounding — it was the suddenness of his appearance, not the man himself, that was so startling. Then he marched through a sleeping, endlessly long village. A long white monastery building looked at Simon expectantly and then vanished behind him. Once more, the path led uphill. Simon ceased to think about anything at all, the growing exertion lamed his thoughts; silent walls gave way to isolated groups of trees, forests to clouds, stones to springs: Everything seemed to be walking alongside and then sinking down behind him. The night was damp, dismal and cold, but his cheeks burned, and his hair was wet with perspiration. All at once he glimpsed something lying stretched out at his feet, something broad, shimmering and glinting — a lake; Simon stopped short. From then on he was walking downhill on an appallingly poorly-maintained path. For the first time his feet ached, but he paid no attention and kept on going. He heard apples falling with soft thuds in the meadow. How mysteriously beautiful the meadows were: unfathomable and dark. The village that next followed awoke his interest thanks to the elegant buildings it had to show for itself. But now Simon no longer knew which direction to take. Search as he might, he couldn’t find the right path. This infuriated him, so he chose the main road without giving it much thought. He must have walked nearly an hour before a distinct feeling told him he had picked the wrong direction, and he turned around again, practically weeping with rage and slamming his shoes against the road as though his feet were at fault. He came back to the village: Two hours wasted — what ignominy! This time he quickly found the right road, since he was looking more carefully, and trotted away, beneath trees that were relinquishing their foliage, on a narrow side road completely covered with rustling leaves. He reached a forest, a mountain forest ascending precipitously before him, and since Simon could no longer see any path, he simply kept walking straight ahead, finding his way though thick fir branches as he climbed higher and higher, scratching his face and scraping his hands, but at least he was still ascending, until at last the forest he had been wrestling his way through with groans and curses came to an end, and an open pasture lay before his eyes. He rested for a moment: “Good Lord, if I arrive too late, how embarrassing!” Onward! He was no longer walking so much as leaping along, heedlessly thrusting his feet into the soft earth of the fields. A pale shy morning light grazed his eyes from somewhere or other. He leapt over hedges that seemed to be mocking him. He was no longer even looking for a path. A proper broad road — this remained suspended in his fantasy as an exquisite treasure for which he longed with all his heart. Again he was walking downhill, through narrow small ravines with houses stuck to their slopes like little toys. He smelled the nut trees beneath which he was walking; down in the valley there appeared to be something like a town, but this was just an eagerly grasped-at hunch. Finally he found the road. His legs themselves appeared jubilant at the find, and he walked more calmly now until he found a fountain and threw himself like a madman on its water pipe. Down below he reached a small town, passing a gleaming-white, diminutive, apparently ecclesiastical palace whose ruinous state moved him deeply, and once more the road led him out into the open countryside. Here the first gray glimpses of daylight appeared. The night seemed to be growing pale; the long silent night showed signs of motion. Simon was now thrusting the road aside in his haste. How comfortable such a smooth road seemed to him, leading now uphill in wide meanderings, then guiding him down again in a splendid straightaway. Banks of mist sank down upon meadows and certain day sounds began to reach his ear. How long a night was. During this night he’d spent walking upon the earth, perhaps a scholar had sat up at his desk by lamplight — perhaps even his brother Klaus, spending just as sour and laborious a wakeful night. Surely the awakening day must appear just as wondrous to a sedentary figure as it did to him, the walker of country roads. Already the first early-morning lamps were being lit in the small houses. A second, larger town appeared, at first its outskirts, then alleyways, then large gates and a wide main street where Simon noticed a splendid edifice with sandstone statues. This was an old city castle now serving as a post office. Already out walking on the street there were people of whom he could ask his way, just as the evening before. And again he marched out into the flat, open countryside. The mist was dissipating, colors appeared, enchanted colors, enchanting colors — morning colors! It seemed it was going to be a splendid, blue autumn Sunday. Now Simon encountered people, women above all, in their Sunday best, women who had perhaps already walked a long way in order to go to church in town. The day was becoming ever more colorful. Now you could see the red, glowing fruit lying in the meadows beside the road, and ripe fruit was constantly falling from the trees. It was real orchard country Simon was walking through. He passed journeymen ambling along at their leisure; they didn’t see walking as such a serious matter. An entire company of these lads lay stretched out on the edge of a meadow in the sun’s first rays: the very image of ease! A cow was led down the road, and the women said “good morning” so prettily. Simon ate apples as he walked; he too was now strolling peacefully through the unfamiliar, beautiful, opulent land. The houses beside the road were so inviting, but even more beautiful and dainty were the houses situated deeper in the landscape, surrounded by trees, in the midst of all that green. The hills rose gracefully, softly into the air, the sky above was beckoning, everything was blue, shot through with a magnificent, fiery blue, groups of people were riding about on carts, and finally Simon beheld a tiny little house beside the road, with a town beyond it, and his brother was just sticking his head out the window. He had arrived punctually, barely a quarter of an hour later than the two had agreed. Joyfully he went into the house.