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for 'Heaven is high, and the Czar afar,' as the Russians say. We
know, Sabina, that many a strange thing has happened since the
rule of the baroness began, eh?"
"Ah, yes indeed, Herr Forester!" replied the old woman, who
was just putting a dish upon the table. "When I think of poor
Schneider,—she is the widow of a day-labourer in the village," she
said, turning to the others; "she always worked hard to make both
ends meet, and no one could say a word against her, but she had
four children to feed, and lived from hand to mouth. And matters
went badly with her last harvest, and she had nothing to give her
children to eat, so she was driven to do what was wrong, and took
an apron full of potatoes from a splendid field belonging to the
castle. But the overseer, Linke, who happened to be standing behind
a tree not far off, saw her, sprang out upon her instantly, and
knocked her down. Even if he had stopped there 'twould not have
been so bad, but he kicked her brutally as she lay upon the ground.
I had been to Lindhof, and as I was passing beneath the cherry
trees near the village, on my way home, I saw some one lying upon
the ground,—it was the poor woman, bleeding profusely, and with
not a soul near her. She could not move, so I called some people,
who helped me to carry her home. The Herr Forester was absent,
but I was sure of his permission, and so I nursed and tended her as
well as I could. The people in the village were furious at the
overseer,—but what could they do? There was some talk of arresting
him, but it all came to nothing. Linke is one of the saints, he is the
baroness' right-hand man, turns up his eyes, and does everything in
the name of the Lord. It must never get abroad that such a pious
man could behave so inhumanly, and so the baroness drove to town
every day, and was wonderfully condescending, and, in short, the
story was hushed up, and the poor woman, who has never entirely
recovered, had to get along as best she might, for neither she nor
her children ever had a bite or a drop from the castle all the while
that she was sick. Ah! yes, the overseer and the baroness' old
waiting-maid make a hard time of it for the poor people, they keep a
close watch to see who misses prayers or chapel over there, and
they have been the means of depriving many an honest man of
work at the castle."
"Don't say any more about it," said the forester. "I cannot relish
my food when I think of these things, and our pleasant Sunday, to
which I look forward all the week, must have no other shadows
upon it than those cast by the white, fleecy clouds up there."
As soon as the meal was concluded the forester's modest little
equipage made its appearance. He handed in Elizabeth, and seated
himself by her side. As she nodded a farewell to the others, she
glanced up at the house, and started with actual terror at the eyes
which were gazing down upon her from a window in the upper story.
'Tis true, the head disappeared instantly, but Elizabeth had time to
recognize the mute Bertha, and to convince herself that she was the
object of that look of rage and hate, although she could not divine
its cause. Until now Bertha had withdrawn herself entirely from all
intercourse with the Ferber family. She never appeared when
Elizabeth was at the Lodge. She took her Sunday dinner alone in her
own room, and the forester allowed her to please herself in the
matter. He had no desire to establish any relation between the two
girls.
 Frau Ferber had once made an attempt to address the
unfortunate girl. Her gentle feminine nature could not believe that
mere wilfulness was the spring of Bertha's extraordinary behaviour.
She suspected the existence of some deeper cause, perhaps of some
secret grief, which made her indifferent to her surroundings, or
rendered her so irritable that she chose to remain silent rather than
be engaged in perpetual strife. A gentle word from her, a kindly
advance on her side, would, she hoped, unseal Bertha's lips; but she
succeeded no better than Elizabeth had done. She was even so
outraged by the girl's manner that she strictly forbade all further
attempt at intercourse with her upon Elizabeth's part.
After a charming drive, Elizabeth and her uncle reached their
destination.
L—— was certainly a small town, and bore the unmistakable
impress of a small town, although the court resided there from the
appearance of the first primrose to the fall of the last autumn leaf,
and its inhabitants took the greatest pains to adapt themselves, in
their social life, to the manners and customs of a large Capital. But
the loud, uneasy creaking of the machinery of a most complicated
domestic economy could not be drowned by the rustle of the most
flowing and elegant crinoline. The honest townsfolk, who left their
dwellings, with doors wide open, in perfect safety, to earn their daily
bread in the little uneven streets, or in the strips of meadow land
between their houses, fell as far short of being peacocks as did the
ducks, that daily delighted to swim in the little brook running directly
through the town, of becoming stately swans.
The situation of the place was undeniably delightful. In the
centre of a not very spacious valley, nestled at the foot of an
eminence whose summit was crowned by the royal castle and
domain, it lay buried in the dark, rich green of avenues of lindens,
and surrounded in spring by the lovely blossoms of countless
orchards.
The forester took Elizabeth to the house of an assessor, one of
his friends. She was to wait for him there until he had concluded his
business. Although made cordially welcome by the lady of the
house, she would gladly have turned round and followed her
retreating uncle,—for she found herself, to her vexation, in the midst
of a large assemblage of ladies. Her hostess informed her that, in
honour of her husband's birthday, she had gotten up a set of
tableaux from mythology, to rehearse which was the cause of the
present gathering. At the coffee-table, in a pleasantly-furnished
apartment, eight or ten ladies were seated, already dressed in
mythological costume, and upon the arrival of the stranger, they
measured her with glances that seemed to penetrate every plait and
fold of her simple attire.
All the goddesses, without exception, had submitted
themselves, in their costume, to the sceptre of the royal fair of
France, and wore their white robes over abundant crinoline, which
was then the fashion, "For," said Ceres, a trig little blonde, upon
whose flushed brow a whole harvest was waving, "one looks so
forlorn without crinoline;" and how else could her dress have
supported the huge bunches of wheat ears and red poppies with
which it was adorned? How Dame Ceres had managed this difficulty
in her days of splendour was a problem which no one took the pains
to solve.
 Perhaps the artificial light of the evening would be favourable to
the remarkable arrangement of some of the toilets, but now the
bright sunlight illuminated and revealed with cruel sincerity every
pasted bit of gold-paper, every paper-muslin scarf that should have
represented satin, and every basting stitch in the improvised tunics.
Several old-fashioned paste shoe-buckles glittered in the girdle of
Venus; and the silver crescent upon the forehead of Diana showed
the blotting-paper behind it at every movement of the head which it
adorned.
The hostess went from one to the other of her guests, exerting
herself for the entertainment of all.
"What a shame!" she said, entering the room after a short
absence, "Frau Räthin Wolf has sent to say that her Adolph cannot
come to-night; he is in bed with a fever. As soon as the note came, I
ran across myself to Doctor Fels; but there is no doing anything with
that man upon the subject of his children's education. He repeated
his former refusal, and so ungraciously, that I am quite outraged. He
says that he considers any part in such entertainments with grown-
up people entirely unfit for half-grown boys like his Moritz, who get
their heads filled with a sense of their own importance, their minds
distracted from their lessons,—and Heaven knows what besides. He
told me, most insolently, that he thinks I should have done better
this evening to have provided my suffering husband—suffering,
indeed, he is as lively as a fish in the sea, except for a touch of
rheumatism—with a supper that he liked, than to have worried him
with such buffoonery, which will only deprive him of his usual
comfort and night's rest, and do no living creature any earthly
good."
 "How coarse! how rude! He is always pretending to be a
connoisseur of art, and doesn't understand it one whit better than
my little finger," was heard from one and the other of the ladies.
"Let my experience console you, dear Adele," said Ceres. "Were
it not that my husband cannot dispense with his services as a
physician, Fels should never darken my doors again. When I had
that children's fancy-ball last winter, which was acknowledged to be
a great success, he refused my invitation to his children; and what
do you think he said to me, when I begged him to allow his little
girls to come,—'Does it really give you pleasure to see such monkey-
tricks?' I never will forgive him!"
Elizabeth suddenly seemed to see the doctor's intellectual face,
with its searching glance, sarcastic smile, and the slightly
contemptuous play of its finely-formed lips. She laughed inwardly at
his rude replies; but she was struck at the same time by the
depressing thought, how hard it is for a man to live up to his
convictions.
"But what would you have, Frau Director?" broke in Flora, a
delicate, languishing figure with a pretty but very pale face, who had
hitherto been entirely occupied in smiling upon her flower-decked
reflection in an opposite glass. "He has treated us no better. Two
years ago he told my father and mother to their faces, that it was
not only folly but want of principle—just think of such a thing!—to
allow me to go into society so young, with my constitution. Papa and
mamma were furious,—as if they did not know best about their own
children! It was well that we all knew what prompted such tender
care on his part. His youngest sister was then still unmarried, and,
naturally enough, she was by no means pleased to see young girls
usurping her place in society. Papa would have dismissed the doctor
upon the spot, but mamma depends upon his prescriptions. Well,
they paid no attention to his advice, and, as you see, I still live."
The silence of the assemblage confirmed Elizabeth's conviction
that the triumph which Flora spoke of was a very doubtful one, and
that this delicate creature, with her narrow chest and pallid face,
would still have to atone severely for the physician's neglected
counsel.
Suddenly a barouche slowly passing down the street attracted
the ladies to the window. Where she was sitting Elizabeth could
plainly see the object of the universal curiosity. In the elegant
vehicle sat the Baroness Lessen and Fräulein von Walde. The latter
had her face turned towards the assessor's house, and she looked as
if she were diligently counting the windows of the lower stories. Her
cheeks were slightly flushed, always a sign in her of inward
agitation. The baroness, on the contrary, was leaning back
negligently among the cushions, and appeared to be entirely
unconscious of everything around.
"The Lindhof ladies," said Ceres. "But, Heavens! what is the
meaning of that? They are entirely ignoring Doctor Fels' windows.
There stands the doctor's wife. Ha, ha! what a long face; she tried to
bow, but the ladies have no eyes in the backs of their heads."
Elizabeth looked across at the opposite house. A very beautiful
woman, with a lovely fair-haired child in her arms, was standing at
the window. There certainly was a puzzled look in her pleasant blue
eyes, but the delicate oval of her face was not in the least
lengthened. Attracted by the movements of the child, who stretched
out his little arms towards the fantastic heads at the windows of the
assessor's house, she looked across, and, archly smiling, nodded to
the ladies, who kissed their hands, and replied to her salutation by
all sorts of tender pantomime.
"Strange!" said the hostess; "what could the ladies mean by
passing by her house without nodding to her? They never went by
without stopping before to-day. Frau Fels would stand on the
carriage-step for ever so long, and Fräulein von Walde seemed to
like her so much—the baroness, 'tis true, often made a wry face. It
certainly is very strange; but we must wait and see what the future
will bring forth."
"Herr von Hollfeld must have stayed at Odenberg. He was with
the ladies this morning when the carriage passed," said Diana.
"How will Fräulein von Walde endure the separation?" asked
Flora, with a sneer.
"Why, is there anything in that quarter?" asked the hostess.
"Don't you know that, child?" cried Ceres. "We can't tell yet
what his sentiments are, but beyond all doubt she loves him
passionately. In fact, it is almost certain that the love is all on one
side; for how can such an unfortunate cripple inspire affection,—and
in such a cold nature as Hollfeld's, which has been unmoved by the
greatest beauties?"
"Yes, true enough," said Venus, with a glance at the mirror,
which Flora, in spite of her emaciation, had entirely monopolized.
"But Fräulein von Walde is enormously rich!"
"Oh, he can have the wealth at a cheaper rate," said Flora. "He
is said to be heir to the sister and brother too."
"Oh, the brother!" rejoined Venus. "He had better not rely upon
his chances there. Herr von Walde is a man in the prime of life, and
may marry at any time."
"Nonsense!" cried Ceres, excitedly. "The woman is yet to be
born, or rather sent down from heaven, who can touch him. He is
haughtiness itself, and has less heart than his cousin. How provoked
I used to be at the court-balls, to see him standing in the doorway
with his arms crossed as if they were glued together, and looking
down so arrogantly upon the crowd. Only when the princess, or one
of the royal family, requested him to dance did he stir from the spot,
and then he was at no pains to conceal that he cared not a bit for
the honour. Well, we know well enough what his requisitions are for
the woman at whose feet he will lay the proud name of von Walde—
Ancestors! ancestors she must have, and her pedigree must date
from Noah's ark."
All laughed, except Elizabeth, who remained very grave.
Fräulein von Walde's behaviour had made a deep impression upon
her. She was annoyed, and felt that her views of human nature had
been lowered. Was such a change possible in the course of a few
short hours? The fact just stated by the ladies, that Helene von
Walde loved the son of the Baroness Lessen, would have fully
explained the influence exercised by the latter to any one of a
practical, matter-of-fact nature,—but not to Elizabeth.
The elevating sentiment, described by the poets of all ages and
all climes as the truest and most ennobling of which human nature is
capable, could not possibly be an incentive to unworthy conduct;
and it was equally hard to imagine how Herr von Hollfeld could
inspire that sentiment. Here she judged from the one-sided,
personal point of view from which we are prone to pass sentence on
others; but whether from the instinct of her true womanly nature, or
whether she really possessed the clear insight that sees in the lines
of the face the clear indications of the soul within and traces them to
their source, we cannot say,—certainly, in this case, her judgment of
a man with whom she had had scarcely any intercourse was entirely
correct.
Herr von Hollfeld was certainly not calculated to personate the
ideal of a refined feminine nature. He neither possessed intelligence
nor wit, was inordinately vain, and by no means content with the
interest excited by his fine person. He was fully aware that most
women will forgive defects of person sooner than defects of mind;
and therefore he adopted the mask of silence and reserve, behind
which the world is so ready to see great intelligence, originality, and
strength of character. There was no man living who could boast of
being upon intimate terms with Herr von Hollfeld; he was cunning
enough to elude every attempt to test the quality of his mind, and
avoided all earnest conversation with men, while women, as soon as
they perceived the rough shell of his repellant behaviour, were only
too ready to cry, "the sweeter the kernel." Herr von Hollfeld
understood his part,—he was moved by secret desires and hopes,
which were strengthened by the difficulty attending their attainment.
Animated by no lofty aspirations, he was the slave of avarice and
sensuality. To make his position a brilliant one from a worldly point
of view, he disdained no petty intrigue, and his office as chamberlain
at the court of L—— opened the way to many such. He deceived and
lied, and was all the more dangerous on account of the frank honest
seeming behind which men never suspected the low schemer, or
women the vulgar sensualist.
 Elizabeth was glad when she saw her uncle turn the corner and
approach the house. With a sigh of relief she took her place in the
carriage at his side. She took off her hat, and bathed her hot
forehead in the fresh, delicious evening breeze that swept gently by.
The last rays of the sun were just gilding the trembling leaves of the
poplars by the roadside, and there was a rosy light upon the fields of
blooming grain; but the forest that enclosed in its bosom Elizabeth's
home lay dark and gloomy beyond, as if it had already forgotten the
sunny life which had penetrated its inmost recesses so short a time
before.
The forester glanced several times at the silent young girl at his
side. Suddenly he transferred both reins and whip to one hand, took
hold of Elizabeth's chin, and turned her face up to him.
"Come, let me see, Elsie!" he said. "What! why, zounds! you
have got two wrinkles there in your forehead as deep as old Sabina's
furrows. What has happened? Come, out with it! Something has
vexed you, hey?"
"No, uncle, I am not vexed, but pained that you were so right in
your estimate of Fräulein von Walde," replied Elizabeth, while a deep
blush of emotion covered her face.
"Pained because I was right, or because Fräulein von Walde has
acted unworthily?"
"Well, because what you prophesied was evil, and——"
"And therefore it follows that you should be angry with me. He
is always the criminal who tells the truth in such a matter. And pray,
which of the utterances of my worldly wisdom has been justified by
time?"
 She told him of Helene's conduct, and of what the ladies had
said. The forester smiled meaningly.
"Oh women, women, and those women in especial! They
prophesy an immediate marriage if two people only say good
morning to each other. But perhaps they are right in this case,—it
clears up much to my mind that has hitherto seemed inexplicable to
me."
"But, uncle, you cannot believe that any one would sacrifice the
best feelings of our nature to such a preference?"
"Many other things have happened, my child, for the sake of
such a preference, and although I do not for one moment defend
Fräulein von Walde's weakness and submission; still, I shall
henceforth judge her more leniently. She succumbs to the power
which leads us to forget father and mother for another's sake."
"Ah! that is just what I cannot understand," said Elizabeth,
earnestly. "How can any one love a stranger better than father or
mother?"
"Hm!" rejoined the forester, touching the horses lightly with his
whip, to accelerate their speed. This "hm" was followed by a clearing
of his throat, and he changed the subject, for he justly thought, "If
that be so, she will never understand my definition of love, although
I should speak with the tongues of angels." And he himself?—Far,
far in the past lay the time when he had carved the dear name upon
the trees, and trained his deep voice to sing love songs; when he
had walked miles for a single smile, and had hated as his bitterest
enemy the man who dared to regard with favour the object of his
adoration. He looked back and rejoiced in that wonderful time, but
to paint it with its tempests of excited feeling,—its tears and
laughter, its hopes and fears,—was more than he could do.
"Do you see that perpendicular black streak just above the
forest there?" he asked, after a long silence, pointing with his whip
to the mountain which they were approaching.
"Yes, indeed, it is the flag-staff upon Castle Gnadeck. I saw it a
few moments ago, and am now rejoicing unspeakably in the thought
that there lies a spot of earth that we may call our own,—a place
from which no one has the right to drive us. Thank God, we have a
home!"
"And such a home!" said the forester, as his beaming eyes
looked around the horizon. "When I was quite a little child, how I
longed for the Thuringian forest! It was all because of my
grandfather's stories. In his youth he had lived in Thuringia, and had
the tales and legends of his home at his tongue's end; and when I
had reached man's estate, I came hither. Then all the forest which
we see before us belonged to the Gnadewitzes, but I would not
enter their service,—my father had told me too much about them. I
was the first Ferber from time immemorial who had renounced their
service. I applied to the Prince of L——. The last of the Gnadewitzes
divided his forests because the Prince of L—— was willing to pay an
immense sum of money that he might enlarge his own woodland
possessions. And thus it happened that the most ardent desire of my
youth was gratified, for I live now in the house that may be called
the cradle of the Ferbers. You know that we came at first from
Thuringia?"
"Oh yes, I have known that from my childhood."
"And do you know the story of our origin?"
 "No."
"Well, it was long ago, and perhaps I am the only one who now
knows anything about it, but it shall not be lost, for remembrance is
all the gratitude that posterity can show for a brave action,—so now
you shall hear the story, and then you can tell it again.
"About two hundred years ago,—you see we can trace back a
considerable pedigree,—the only pity is that we have no idea who
the mother of our race was,—if you should ever be asked any
questions concerning her by the Baroness Lessen, or others, you can
answer with confidence that we suspect her to have been either
Augusta von Blasewitz,—for the story dates from the thirty years'
war,—or a vivandiere: perhaps she was a good, honest woman, who
clung to her husband through all the hardships of the war, although
I cannot forgive her for forsaking her child,—well, then, about two
hundred years ago, as the wife of the huntsman Ferber opened her
door in the morning—the very door that now shuts upon my home—
she saw a little child lying upon the threshold. She clapped the door
to again in a great hurry, for the forest was then swarming with
gypsies, and she thought it would prove to be one of their dirty
brats. But her husband was more of a Christian, and took the child
in. It was scarcely a day old. A paper was pinned upon its breast,
stating that the child was born in holy wedlock, that he had been
baptized by the name of Hans, and that whoever would take care of
him should receive further revelations concerning him at some future
day. Hidden in the child's dress was found a purse containing some
money. The huntsman's wife was a good woman, and when she
heard the child was born of Christian parents, and was probably the
son of some honest soldier who had left it here that it might not be
exposed to the dangers of the war, she took it to her heart and
brought it up with her own little girl as if they had been brother and
sister. It was well for him that she did so, for no one ever heard
another word about his relatives. His foster-father afterwards
adopted him, and, to make his happiness complete, he married his
foster-sister. He, as well as his son and grandson, lived where I live
now, as foresters to the Gnadewitzes, and they all died there. My
grandfather was the first who left this place with his master for one
of the estates in Silesia. As a boy, I was much disappointed that
some countess mother did not turn up in the end who should
recognize the foundling as her son, stolen from her by the malice of
an enemy, and bear him home in triumph to her castle. Later in life I
learned to endure the want of this romantic termination to the story
with a good grace, as I considered that in such case my own
appearance here would have been very dubious, and my honest
name pleased me too much to wish it changed for any other; but
imagine my sensations when I stood for the first time upon the
threshold where the little foundling had passed the most helpless
moment of his life, when, deserted by his natural parents, sympathy
had not yet supplied their place. The worn stone is undoubtedly the
same upon which the child lay, and as long as I live here or have
anything to do with the place, it shall never be removed."
Suddenly the forester leaned forward and pointed through the
boughs, for they had entered the wood.
"Do you see that white spot?" he asked.
The white spot was the cap of Sabina, who was sitting at the
door of the Lodge waiting for them. When she saw the carriage, she
rose quickly, shook the contents of her apron, which proved to be a
quantity of forget-me-nots, into a basket, and came to assist
Elizabeth to alight.
The horse trotted, neighing, behind the house, where he was
awaited and received with a caressing pat. Hector laid himself down
upon the ground, wagging his tail contentedly, and the doves and
sparrows, which the noise of the arrival had frightened away,
returned and hopped fearlessly about upon the green painted bench
and table under the linden, where, as the little rogues well knew, the
forester was in the habit of taking his morning and evening meals.
He went into the house for a moment that he might exchange his
uniform for the more comfortable garment worn at home, and soon
returned, pipe and newspaper in hand, to the linden, where Sabina
soon began to lay the table.
"'Tis a fact, it's a silly piece of Sunday work for such an old
woman as I am," said the housekeeper, laughing, as she passed
Elizabeth, who, sitting upon the stone step which now possessed
such an interest for her, continued the weaving of the wreath which
Sabina had begun. "But I have been used to such work from my
youth. I have two little black pictures up in my room, likenesses of
my blessed father and mother; they certainly deserve that I should
honour them and hold them in loving remembrance, so I hang fresh
flowers around them every Sunday, as long as there is a blossom to
be had. A couple of children from Lindhof bring me fresh ones every
Sunday, and to-day they brought me so many that there is enough
for a wreath for Gold Elsie; if she puts it in a dish of water it will
keep fresh all through the week."
Elizabeth sat a long time this evening with her uncle. A flood of
memories came rushing over his mind, called forth by his narration
of the old story of two hundred years before. He recalled many a
wish, plan, and aspiration of his youth, which now provoked only a
smiling sigh of sympathetic pity,—they had all vanished before the
actual, like dust before the wind. He talked them over now, as one
who, standing upon the land, hears the dash of the breakers afar
that cannot reach him. Sometimes he would make some witty
attack, in the midst of his recollections, upon Elizabeth, who would
parry his thrusts and retort merrily.
Meanwhile a light arose behind the trees, which had blended
undistinguishably with the dark heavens, but which now stood out in
strong relief against the bright background. Single rays shot like
silver arrows between interlacing boughs, and lay motionless like
oases of light upon the dim meadow, until at last the moon arose,
large and victorious, above the tops of the trees, and its full lustre
flooded the landscape. The gentle breeze of evening had long since
folded its wings,—you could have counted the shadows of the linden
leaves upon the moonlit earth, so distinct and motionless they lay.
All the clearer was heard the gurgle of the little fountain in the court-
yard of the Lodge, and the low, indefinite murmur from the woods,
which Elizabeth called "the sleepy rain" of the forest.
"There," said Sabina, crowning Elizabeth's head lightly with the
forget-me-not wreath, which she had just completed. "Carry it home
so, and you'll not crush it."
"Then it may stay there," said she, laughing, as she arose.
"Many thanks for my ride! Good-night, uncle, good-night, Sabina!"
And then she hastened through the house and garden, and was
soon outside the gate, which she closed behind her, and flew along
up the narrow moonlit forest path. In the dwelling-room above, the
lamp was burning; in spite of the bright moonlight, its beams were
distinctly visible, for the front of her home lay in deep shade.
As she reached the little clearing, a remarkable shadow fell
across her path. It was neither a tree nor a post, but the figure of a
man, a stranger, who had been standing upon one side of the path,
and now, to her terror, approached her. The apparition courteously
removed its hat, and Elizabeth's terror vanished on the instant, for
she saw before her the smiling, good-humoured countenance of a
well dressed, rather elderly man.
"I pray your pardon, Fräulein, if I have frightened you," he said,
as he looked kindly over the large, shining glasses of his spectacles
into her face. "I assure you, I have no designs either upon your life
or your purse, and am simply a peaceful traveller, returning to his
home, who greatly desires to know what the light in the ruins
yonder may betoken; and yet this moment convinces me that my
question is quite superfluous. Fairies and elves are holding their
revels there, while the fairest among them keeps guard in the forest
around, that none may invade their charmed circle with impunity."
This gallant comparison, trite as it may appear, was not ill
applied at this moment, for the slight girlish figure in white robes,
with the blue wreath crowning her angelic countenance, and bathed
in moonlight, might well have been mistaken for a fairy vision, as it
glided so lightly among the trees of the wood.
She herself laughed inwardly at the quaint compliment, but with
a little pique at the thought of resembling such a mercurial elfish
being, and she replied to the old gentleman with maidenly dignity.
"I am really sorry," she said, "to be forced to lead you back to
realities, but I fail to see anything in the light yonder, except a
commonplace lamp in the dwelling-room of a forester's clerk in the
service of the Prince of L——."
"Ah!" laughed the gentleman, "and does the man live all alone
in those uncanny old walls?"
"He might do so with a quiet mind, for over those whose
consciences are pure nothing uncanny can have any power.
Nevertheless some loving creatures bear him company, among the
rest, two well-fed goats and a canary bird, not to mention the owls,
who have retired into private life in great indignation, since the
frivolous conduct of human beings does not assort at all well with
the solemn views of life entertained by their grave worships."
"Or perhaps because they shun the light and cannot endure
——"
"That the new arrival should adore the truth?"
"Perhaps that, too; but I was about to suggest that they fly
from the two suns that have suddenly arisen in the old ruins."
"Two suns at once? That would be a terrible experience for their
poor owls' eyes, and might even prove too much for a fire-
worshipper," replied Elizabeth, laughing, as she passed him with a
slight inclination, for her parents had just emerged from the gate in
the wall, and were advancing towards her. They had come out with
some anxiety when they heard Elizabeth's voice and that of a
stranger, and they gently reproved her, after she had related her
little adventure, for entering so thoughtlessly into conversation with
strangers.
"Your badinage might have had unpleasant consequences for
you, my child," said her mother. "Fortunately, they were gentlemen."
 "Gentlemen?" interrupted her daughter, with surprise. "There
was only one."
"Look around," said her father; "you can see for yourself."
And certainly just where the path began to descend into the
valley, two hats were plainly to be seen.
"So you see, mother dear," said Elizabeth, "what an entirely
harmless encounter it was. One never stepped out from behind the
bushes, and there was certainly not an atom of the brigand to be
seen in the kind old face of the other."
When she went to her room she carefully took the wreath from
her head, laid it in fresh water, and placed it before the bust of
Beethoven, then she kissed the forehead of the sleeping Ernst, and
said good-night to her father and mother.

CHAPTER IX.

"Hallo, Elsie, do not run so!" shouted the forester, the next day at
three o'clock in the afternoon, as he came out of the forest with his
rifle on his shoulder and crossed the meadow towards the Lodge.
Elizabeth was running down the mountain, her round hat
hanging upon her arm instead of resting upon the braids that
glanced in the sunlight, and as she reached the house she flew
laughing into her uncle's arms, which he extended to receive her.
She put her hand into her pocket, and stepped back a few
paces. "Guess what I have in my pocket, uncle," she said, smiling.
 "Well, what can it be? No need to puzzle one's brains long about
it. Probably a little sentimental hay,—a few dried flowers, kept for
the sake of the melancholy associations that they recall,—or some
printed sighs over the woes of the world, bound in gilt pasteboard?"
"Wrong, indeed; twice wrong, Herr Forester, for, in the first
place, your wit glances harmlessly aside from me, and in the next—
look here!"
She drew a little box from her pocket, and lifted the cover.
There, upon green leaves, was comfortably lying a large lemon-
coloured caterpillar, with black spots, broad bluish-green stripes
upon its back, and a crooked horn upon its tail.
"By all that is wonderful, Sphinx Atropos!" cried the delighted
forester. "Ah, my sunbeam, where did you find that exquisite
specimen?"
"Over at Lindhof, in a potato-field. Isn't it beautiful? There, let
us shut the box carefully, and put it back in my pocket."
"What! am I not to have it?"
"Oh yes; you can have it,—that is if you are inclined to pay for
it."
"Zounds! What a girl you have become! Come, give it to me,—
here are four groschen."
"Not for the world. You can't have it for one farthing less than
twelve. When many a ragged, yellow old bit of parchment,—that one
can hardly bear to touch,—is paid for with its weight in gold,
certainly such a perfect piece of Nature's workmanship is worth
twelve groschen."
"Yellow old parchment! never breathe such a word into scientific
ears, if you value your reputation."
 "Ah, there are none such to be breathed into here in the forest."
"Take care; Herr von Walde——"
"Is hiding in the Pyramids."
"But he might suddenly return and take a certain self-conceited
young person to strict account. He is cock-of-the-walk among
learned men."
"Well, for aught I care, they may raise monuments in his
honour, and strew laurels in his path, as much as they choose. I
cannot forgive him for forgetting, in the midst of all that dead
lumber, the claims that the living have upon him. While he is
engaged in an enthusiastic search, perhaps, for some wonderfully
preserved receipt by Lucullus, or lost in investigations as to whether
the Romans did actually feed their fish upon the flesh of slaves, the
poor employed upon his estate starve under the baroness' rule—
actually crushed beneath the yoke of modern slavery."
"Hallo! how his left ear must burn! What a pity that he cannot
hear this confession of faith! Here are your twelve groschen, if you
must have them. You want to buy some trinket or other, a feather, or
ribbons for your hat, hey?" he said, smiling.
She held her hat out at arm's length before her, and
contemplated with admiration the two fresh roses which she had
stuck into the simple band of black velvet that encircled it. "Does not
that look lovely?" she asked. "Do you think I would voluntarily hide
my head beneath nodding plumes when I can have roses, fresh
roses? And there is your caterpillar, and now you shall know why I
want to black-mail you. This morning the poor widow of a weaver in
Lindhof came to my mother, begging a little assistance. Her husband
had had a fall, which injured his arm and his foot, so that he has not
been able to earn anything for weeks. My mother gave her some old
linen and a large loaf of bread. She could do nothing more, as you
know. See, here I have fifteen groschen,—from my money-box,—
there is not another farthing in it just now, and three from little
Ernst, who would gladly have sold his tin soldiers to help the poor
woman, and with the price for the caterpillar I shall have a whole
thaler, which I shall carry to the poor thing immediately."
"Let me see. Here is another thaler; and, Sabina," he called into
the house, "bring out a piece of meat from your pickling-tub, and
wrap it up in green leaves. You shall take that too," he said, turning
again to Elizabeth.
"Oh, you dearest of splendid uncles!" cried the girl, taking his
large hand between her slender palms and pressing it tenderly.
"But take care," he continued, "that the piece of good salt meat
does not turn into roses. It would be a sad change for the poor
weaver's wife. You seem to be following in the steps of your saintly
namesake."
"Yes; but fortunately I have here no cruel Landgrave to fear.
And if I had, I would tell the truth in spite of him."
"Gracious gods, what a heroic soul it is!"
"But I think the courage to tell a lie would be far greater, even
though it were a pious one."
"True, true, my daughter. I think I could hardly have done it
either. Ah, here comes Sabina!"
The old housekeeper issued from the door, and whilst she
wrapped up the meat for Elizabeth, in accordance with the forester's
directions, she whispered to him that Herr von Walde, who had
yesterday arrived from abroad, had been waiting for him for some
time.
"Where?" he asked.
"Here in the dwelling-room."
Now they had been standing directly beneath the open windows
of this room. Elizabeth turned quickly round, blushing scarlet, but
could see no one. Her uncle, without turning, shrugged his shoulders
with an infinitely comical gesture, stroked his long moustache, and
whispered, with a suppressed laugh: "Here's a nice state of things!
You have settled matters finely,—he has heard every word.7"
"So much the better," replied his niece, throwing her head back
with an air of defiance. "He does not hear the truth very often,
perhaps." Then bidding farewell to her uncle and Sabina, she walked
slowly away through the forest in the direction of Lindhof.
At first she was annoyed at the thought that Herr von Walde
had been obliged, entirely against his will, to listen to the judgment
which had been passed upon him. Then she was sure that she
should have told him just the same truth to his face. And as it was
scarcely to be supposed that he would ever trouble himself about
her estimate of him, it certainly could do him no harm that he had
been involuntarily the auditor of a frank, impartial sentence passed
upon him, even although such sentence came from the lips of a
young girl. But how had it happened that he had returned so
suddenly and unexpectedly? Fräulein von Walde had always spoken
of her brother's absence as likely to continue for several years, and
the day before she had had not the slightest expectation of his
return. And then her encounter of the previous evening flashed into
her mind. The old gentleman had said that he was a traveller
returning home; but it was impossible that he, with his smiling,
good-humoured face, could be the grave, haughty proprietor of
Lindhof, who, perhaps, was the person that had remained concealed
beneath the trees while his companion was getting an answer to his
inquiries. But what could Herr von Walde want with her uncle, who,
as she knew, had never stood in any relation to him whatever?
These and similar thoughts occupied her mind upon her way to
the weaver's. Husband and wife were delighted by the unhoped-for
assistance, and heaped Elizabeth with profuse professions of
gratitude as she left the house.
She passed through the village, and directed her steps to
Lindhof, where she had promised to practice as usual. The lesson
had not been postponed, notwithstanding the return of Herr von
Walde. The proprietor's return had worked a great change in the
whole look of the castle. All the windows of the lower story on the
south side, which had so long been dark and closed behind their
white shutters, now reflected the sunlight in a long, shining row. The
apartments within were undergoing a thorough airing and dusting. A
glass door stood wide open, revealing the interior of a large saloon.
Upon one of the steps which led down to the garden at the back lay
a snow-white greyhound, with his slender body stretched out upon
the hot stone and his head resting upon his forepaws; he blinked at
Elizabeth as though she had been an old acquaintance. At an open
window the gardener was arranging a stand of flowers, and the old
steward Lorenz was walking through the rooms, superintending
everything.
It was remarkable that all the people whom the young girl met
had, as if by magic, entirely altered their whole expression. Had a
tempest swept through the sultry atmosphere and a fresh breeze
filled all the rooms, so that voices sounded clearer, and bent forms
grew straight and elastic? Even old Lorenz, whose face had always
worn so grim and depressed a look, as though there were a weight
of lead upon his shoulders, shot real sunshine from his eyes,
although he was scolding one of the maids; Elizabeth looked on in
surprise. She had only seen him before gliding about upon the tips
of his toes, and in low, suppressed tones announcing guests to the
ladies in the drawing-room.
In amazement at this sudden bursting into bloom of new life
and activity, Elizabeth turned towards the wing appropriated to the
ladies. Here the deepest silence still reigned. In the apartments of
the baroness the curtains were closely drawn. No noise penetrated
through the doors by which Elizabeth passed. The air of the
passages was heavy with the odour of valerian, and when at the
lower end of one of the halls, Elizabeth saw through an open door
one human face, what a change met her eye! It was the baroness'
old waiting-maid who looked out, probably to see who was so bold
as to invade the solemn repose of the corridor. Her cap was set upon
her false curls all awry, and the curls themselves were but loosely
put on. Her countenance wore a troubled expression, and a round,
red spot on each cheek, betokened either high fever or some violent,
mental agitation. She returned Elizabeth's salute shortly and sullenly,
and disappeared into the room, closing the door noiselessly behind
her.
When Elizabeth reached Fräulein von Walde's apartment, she
thought that she had arrived at the last act in the mysterious drama
which had begun in the baroness' rooms, for no "come in" answered
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