And so we go on amid the boulders and the ancient trees. As we come to the precipice, the shadows of evening are closing in.
The whole night we walk through the forest. In the ravines and narrow defiles the darkness is appalling, and our cross crashes against many an old tree-trunk. When our path leads over rising ground, the moonlight shimmers through the branches, revealing the white mosaics and hearts which lie upon the earth.
Many times we lay down our burden and wipe the sweat from our brows; we speak very little with one another. Only once Rüpel breaks the silence with the words: "The cross is heavy—hard, I ’ll bear it till I die, and o’er my grave a tree shall rise, when they bury me by and by; and green it shall grow to greet the sun, nor o’er my bones decay, but heavenward ever soar, increasing day by day."
Once, while we are thus resting, a dark figure glides by us across the way. It stretches out one hand, pointing to a broad stone, and then disappears. We both notice this apparition, but do not speak until on the meadow of the Karwässer we place the cross upright on the ground, its dark shadow peacefully resting upon the dewy grass, and then the old man utters these words: "He bore the cross unto the mount—our Lord—in bitter grief, and stopped to rest upon a stone, and, resting, found relief. A Jew stepped out and said: ’This stone belongs to me.’ The Saviour staggered on in pain, the Jew must ever flee; he cannot die, but e’en to-day, there is no rest at hand—from age to age, in fiery shoes, he roams from land to land." After a little Rüpel continues: "Because we ’ve borne the cross to-night, we ’ve seen the Wandering Jew—he begged us rest upon the stone, ’t were peace for him, but not for me and you."
At the coal-pit in upper Lautergräben, four men await us. Taking the cross, they lay it upon a bier of green branches and proceed with it towards the Winkel.
As we approach our valley the day is breaking. And a tone resounds and trembles through the air, which is not to be compared with song of man, lute, or any earthly music. It is many years since I have heard a sound like that, and I scarcely recognise it. We all stop and listen; it is the bell of our new church. While we were in the Felsenthal, the bells arrived and were hung.