It was a bright September evening; the sunlight fell through the branches, and whenever Lenore's hair caught its rays, it shone like gold.

The proud eye, the delicate mouth, the slender limbs of the noble girl took his fancy prisoner.

She laughed, and showed her little white teeth--he was enraptured; she broke off a twig, and struck the shrubs with it as she passed--it seemed to him that they bent before her in homage to the ground.
They came to the bridge between the park and the fields, where a few little girls ran to Lenore and kissed her hands; she received the tribute of respect as a queen might have done.

Two other children had made a long chain of dandelion stalks, and with it barred Bernhard's way.
"Away with you, rude little things," cried Lenore; "how can you think of barring our way?
The gentleman comes from the castle." And Bernhard felt with pride that, for the moment, he belonged to her.
He put his hand in his purse, and soon got rid of the children.

"It is long," said he, "since I have seen a dandelion chain.