And there would be torrents of rain and hail! Where could she go? Her dress would be soaked, and how could she dry it?
She clambered out of the ditch. In the distance she saw a wood. She thought that she might find a nook there where she could take shelter.
She had no time to lose. It was very dark. The claps of thunder became more frequent and louder, and the vivid lightning played fantastically on the black sky.
Would she be able to reach the wood before the storm broke? She ran as quickly as her panting breath would allow, now and again casting a look behind her at the black clouds which seemed to be sweeping down upon her.
She had seen terrible storms in the mountains when travelling with her father and mother, but they were with her then; now she was alone. Not a soul near her in this desolate country. Fortunately the wind was behind her; it blew her along, at times carrying her off her feet. If she could only keep up this pace; the storm had not caught up with her yet.
Holding her elbows against her little body and bending forward, she ran on ... but the storm also made greater strides.
At this moment came a crash, louder and heavier. The storm was just over her now and the ground around her was cleaved with blue flames. It was better to stop running now; far better be drenched than struck down by lightning.
Soon a few drops of rain fell. Fortunately she was nearing the wood, and now she could distinguish clearly the great trees. A little more courage. Many times her father had told her that if one kept one's courage in times of danger one stood a better chance of being saved. She kept on.
When at last she entered the forest it was all so black and dark she could scarcely make out anything. Then suddenly a flash of lightning dazzled her, and in the vivid glare she thought she saw a little cabin not far away to which led a bad road hollowed with deep ruts. Again the lightning flashed across the darkness, and she saw that she had not made a mistake. About fifty steps farther on there was a little hut made of faggots, that the woodcutters had built.
She made a final dash; then, at the end of her strength, worn out and breathless, she sank down on the underbrush that covered the floor.