A neglected looking, yet powerful man, with a wild, disheveled appearance, stood before them.

Thomas recognized Bruno at once, and exclaimed:

"Ah, Wildenort! it's well you've come. I take my hat off to you, for you're an out-and-out man. What matters one's father! When he's dying, ride off; one can't help him die, you know. Ho, ho! you're a splendid fellow. No one cares for the old lumber any more."

"What do you want of me?" asked Bruno, with tremulous voice.

"I shan't harm you; there's my hand on it. I'll do you no harm. You let the king do what he chooses and make no fuss about it, and so I shall do you no harm, for what you've done in the same line of business.

You're my king. I got it out of her at the very last, that you were the one, and that, because it was you, she had helped your sister. You know what I mean, well enough. I shan't say a word. The stupid world needn't know what there is between us. Sister, king; poacher, count--it's all as it should be."

"This man seems crazed," said the intendant to the guide. "What do you want? Let go of the gentleman!" he called out to Thomas.

"Is that your lackey? Where's the one with the coal-black hair?--Let us alone," said Thomas, turning to the intendant, "we understand each other very well. Don't we, brother? You're a brother, and I'm one, too.

Ha! the world's wisely arranged! You mustn't think I've been drinking; I've taken something, it's true, but that doesn't hurt me--I'm as sober as a judge. Now let me tell you what my plan is: I'll listen to reason, to anything that's fair and just; I can see that you're a decent fellow, for you come to me of your own accord."

"We wish to inquire whether you know anything of the lady in the blue riding-habit who was here?" said the intendant in the proper dialect.

"Ho, ho!" cried Thomas, "how finely he talks; but I can understand priest German, and judge's German, too. I've had enough to do with those people already. But you'd better not interfere"; and then, turning to Bruno, he added: "Let us two talk together, alone. Now listen, brother; this is what we'll do: You needn't make a count of me; all you need do is to give me servants and horses, and enough money and chamois and deer, and you'll soon see how clever and strong and hearty I am. Would you like to wrestle with me? or come out into the woods, and I'll show you that I can shoot better than you can. Now, all you need do is to give me either your sister's inheritance or my sister's, and you'll see we'll be a couple of merry brothers!"

Bruno hardly knew whether he was dreaming or awake. Some of the insolent fellow's words were clear enough to him, others he could not understand. He motioned the intendant to withdraw, and then said in a gentle voice:

"Thomas, I know you now; sit down."

Thomas seated himself on the bench, and, raising the brandy jug which he had bought with the money received for the hat, said:

"Won't you drink something?"

Bruno declining, Thomas took a long draught.

The intendant said to Bruno, in French, that there was no information to be obtained from that quarter, and that he had secretly charged the guide to hold fast to the wild fellow, so that, unmolested, they might return to the valley.

"What sort of gibberish is the simpleton talking, there?" cried Thomas, preparing to rush at the intendant. At the same moment, the guide threw himself on Thomas, and held him fast, while the two gentlemen left the hut and hurried down the mountain.

It was not until the guide again came up with them, that they paused, and Bruno ventured to draw a long breath. The guide now told them how Thomas had raged, and how he had called out for the gun which he had hidden in the wood, and that he had said he must shoot his brother-in-law.

"The best thing the fellow could do," said the guide, "would be to drink himself to death, so as to save himself from being hanged."

After some time, Bruno ventured to ask the intendant, in a whisper, whether they had not proceeded far enough with their investigation, and whether it was not best to return at once.

The intendant was silent. Bruno looked at him again with that bitter expression which might also pa.s.s for grief.

The intendant, who saw that Bruno was almost broken down, consented to return.

CHAPTER XII.

The two friends returned to the inn. On their way, they met one of the grooms who had brought their horses, and who now told them of a boatman who had informed him that the body of a woman had been dragged from the lake. It had been near the village, of which a few scattered houses and the church steeple were visible on the opposite sh.o.r.e.

The intendant embraced Bruno, who seemed staggered at the news. They sat down for a while, in the very spot where they had been when the news reached them. The groom said that, by boat, they could reach the village in one hour; but that if they went by land, it would take them several hours.

"I can't cross the water," said Bruno, "I can't to-day; Schoning, don't ask it of me! Don't force me! Why do you torment me so?" he asked impatiently.

The intendant well knew that deep grief makes men unreasonable. In the dark depths of their hearts, there still lurks a feeling of anger, even toward those who most thoroughly sympathize with them, but who, themselves, have been spared by misfortune.

"I take no offense at anything you do," he replied, "and through you treat me rudely, I shall bear it. I understand you, and am far from wishing to induce you to cross the lake. We'll ride."

Their horses were brought, and they rode off in the direction of the village that had been pointed out to them. They pa.s.sed an inn where a crowd of merry wagoners, boatmen and woodcutters were sitting under the lindens, and drinking beer or brandy. Bruno felt that he was being treated like a fever patient whom they were dragging over hill and dale, and to whose clouded vision the world seemed bare and desolate.

When they reached the inn, his mouth watered. He thirsted for drink; perhaps it might give him new strength and, what was still better, might enable him to forget. But he did not venture to express his wish to his friend. Was it proper for one in his position to drink brandy? A poacher, like Thomas, might do so; but it would ill befit a cavalier.

While thanking the intendant for the trouble he had given him, and promising that he would never forget it, Bruno, whose tongue was parched with thirst, secretly cursed the friend who would not allow him to drink. Ah, how fortunate it is that words are always at command. It is almost as fortunate as the fact that horses are properly broken in, and keep up their pace so nicely that they give one no trouble.

The friends rode on at a rapid pace. It was high noon when they reached the village which Hansei and his family had left two days before. The landlord of the Chamois was standing at the door, and respectfully saluted the two hors.e.m.e.n with the groom behind them.

They alighted. Bruno handed the reins of his steaming horse to the groom. The intendant led his friend into the front garden, where they sat down. He then insisted on Bruno's taking a gla.s.s of wine. The host quickly brought a sealed bottle, and vaunted it as the best wine in the house. He also brought some roast meat and placed it on the table, and as long as he had brought it, it must be paid for, even through it were not touched.

The intendant took the host aside and, in a whisper, asked him whether it was true that the body of a woman had been cast ash.o.r.e near there.

The host answered in the affirmative, and with a smile of satisfaction.

The occurrence was a strange and unusual one, and it was only right that it should enure to his great profit. The intendant again asked him where the house was in which the body lay.

"I'll take you there," said the host, with a smile.

"Send for the burgomaster, also."

"There's no need of that; I'm a member of the council," said he, hurrying into the house and returning with his long coat and his medal.

He meant to let the gentlemen see with whom they had to do. He felt sure that they must be people of quality, or else they wouldn't be traveling with a groom, and would have said: "Take your meat away; we shan't pay for it!" He even fancied that he knew one of them.

"Begging your pardon," said he to the intendant, "but some years ago, there was a painter here who looked enough like you to be your brother."

The intendant well knew that it was himself who was referred to, but he was not yet in the mood to renew the acquaintance.

The host accompanied the strangers to Hansei's house.

On the way there, he said: "She was a handsome creature. She was beautiful, but good-for-nothing; and her belongings were as bad as she was: particularly her one brother."

The intendant beckoned the innkeeper to be quiet. Bruno bit his lips until they bled. They found it almost impossible to force their way through the crowd which had gathered in the garden and about the road.

There were wailing woman, crying children, and cursing men.

"Make way there!" cried the host. He walked on, forcing a pa.s.sage for the two men, and Bruno heard some one behind him say: "The handsome man, with the large mustache, is the king."

"No, he isn't; it's his cousin!" said another.

They had entered the garden. Bruno leaned against the cherry-tree, and the intendant motioned to the host to allow his comrade to rest for a little while. Everything seemed to swim before Bruno's eyes. Something touched him, and he started with fear. It was a dead leaf which had fallen from the tree above. At last, addressing Schoning in French, he said:

"What good will it do the dead, if I look at her? And it will harm me forever, for I shall never be able to banish the sight from my memory!"

"You must go in, my friend. Remember that these people have made every effort in their power to restore to life one who was a stranger to them, and they have done this out of pure philanthropy."