The Goose Girl

The road to the ancient city of Dreiberg winds up a sun‑lit hillside, a patchwork of cliffs, streams and distant vineyards. Along it an old wanderer in patched rags leans on his oak staff, his eyes scanning the horizon as he hurries toward a distant figure. Ahead, a young goose‑girl shuffles in wooden shoes, her flock of geese trailing behind, humming a bright tune that carries over the dust‑laden highway. Their quiet determination hints at a simple purpose—she is bringing her birds to market, he seems drawn by curiosity and a lingering sense of duty.

As the sun dips, the road fills with the clatter of cavalry and the glitter of uniforms, a grand duke and his retinue passing by the pair. The goose‑girl’s cheerful song contrasts with the looming presence of soldiers, suggesting that her humble life may soon intersect with the intrigues of the court. Meanwhile, the old man watches, his weathered hands gripping the staff, wondering what fate awaits the two strangers on this winding road.