THE FOREST was large and thickly overgrown with all kinds of leaf-bearing trees. Usually, it is cold this time of year and it even happens that it snow, but this November was relatively1 warm. You might have thought it was summer except that the whole forest was strewn with fallen leaves－some yellow as saffron, some red as wine, some the color of gold and some of mixed color. The leaves had been torn down by the rain, by the wind, some by day, some at night, and they now formed a deep carpet over the forest floor. Although their juices had run dry, the leaves still exuded2 a pleasant aroma3. The sun shone down on them through the living branches, and worms and flies which had somehow survived the autumn storms crawled over them. The space beneath the leaves provided hiding places for crickets, field mice and many other creatures who sought protection in the earth.

At times during cold and stormy nights, Trufa would complain: “My time had come, Ole, but you hand on!”

“What for?” Ole asked. “Without you, my life is senseless. If you fall, I’ll fall with you.”

“NO, Ole, don’t do it! So long as a leaf can stay up it mustn’t let go.”

“It all depends if you stay with me,” Ole replied. “By day I look at you and admire your beauty. At night I sense your fragrance4. Be the only leaf on a tree? No never!”

“Ole, your words are so sweet but they’re not true,” Trufa said. “You know very well that I’m no longer pretty. Look how wrinkled I am, how shriveled I’ve become! Only one thing is still left me－my love for you.”

“Isn’t that enough? Of all our powers love the highest, the finest,” Ole said. “So long as we love each other we remain here, and no wind, rain or storm can destroy us. I’ll tell you something, Trufa－I never loved you as much as I love you now.”

“Why, Ole? Why? I’m all yellow.”

“Who says green is pretty and yellow is not? All colors are equally handsome.”