She hastily resumed walking, and accompanied by the tolling of the bells, which now would not leave her ears, she swiftly advanced between the last houses onto the hills, whose lower slopes were studded with vineyards and, here and there, bushes lining the paths, while from above the bright green of the forest beckoned. And now she knew where she was being drawn, and it was a lovely feeling, as though with every step she were sinking more deeply into nature. Her heart pounded with delight and effort when she sometimes stopped and assured herself that the bells were still going with her, though hidden high in the air and hardly audible. It seemed to her that she had never before heard bells ringing like this in the middle of an ordinary day, for no apparent festive reason, democratically mingled with the natural, self-assured business of life. But of all the tongues of this thousand-voiced city, this was the last one that spoke to her, and there was something about it that seized hold of her, as though it wanted to lift her high and swing her up the mountain, but then each time it would let go of her again and lose itself in a small metallic sound that was in no way an exception to the chirping, buzzing, or rustling of all the other sounds of the countryside. So Agathe climbed and walked on for perhaps another hour, when she suddenly found herself facing the little wilderness of shrubs she had carried in her memory. It enclosed a neglected grave by the edge of the forest, where a poet had killed himself nearly a hundred years ago and where, in accordance with his last wish, he had been laid to rest. Ulrich had said he was not a good poet, though a famous one, and the rather shortsighted lyricism that expresses itself in the wish to be buried at a site that serves as a scenic view had found a sharp critic in him. But Agathe had loved the inscription on the big stone slab since the day they had come upon it on a walk and together deciphered the rain-worn beautiful Biedermeier letters, and she leaned over the black chains with the big angular links that defined the limit separating the rectangle of death from life.