"If a forester is denied the proper delights of home and married life, there is nothing left him but the pleasures of the tavern; and they will certainly ruin him.

"Martella must not be confused or taught in school-girl fashion. That which is n.o.ble and refined in life cannot be imparted by precept or command. It must become a necessity to her, just as it has become to our own son, and not until then can they both be happy.

"Neither will the world be satisfied with mere nature and forest manners. Does it not seem the very thing that she of her own accord has said to Ernst, 'Let me spend a year as a servant to your sister, the captain's wife, or what would be still better, with your mother, and then come for me? If you do not object, I think we had better do this.

Early to-morrow morning I shall drive over into the valley with Ernst, and in the evening I shall return with Martella, who will remain with us until all is arranged and she has become used to our ways and customs, so that Ernst may live happily with her, not only in his youth, but until his eighty-third year--for my father lived to that age."

I do not know which to admire most in my wife--her shrewdness or her kindness. She always had the right word at the right time.

I, of course, approved of her plan, and on the morrow she started off with Ernst in the wagon. Rothfuss drove the two bays.

Towards evening, I walked down the road to meet them on their return.

The sun was going down behind the Vosges Mountains. The rosy sunset shed its glow over the rocks and the waters of the brook.

The Englishman stood at the bank angling. He never saluted those whom he met, but lived entirely for himself. Every year, as soon as the snows began to melt, he came to our valley, and remained until the winter returned. He dwelt with Lerz the baker, and was always fishing up and down the valley. He gathered up his complicated fishing-tackle and departed, followed by a day laborer carrying a fish basket.

CHAPTER VII.

I waited down by the village saw-mill, where they already knew that Ernst's bride was coming to live with us. With all his gentleness and candor, Ernst had announced this in order that we should be bound by it. I met Rautenkron the forester, who was known in the whole neighborhood as "The wild huntsman."

He was the best of shots, and could endure no living object. The people thought he merely avoided men, but I knew that he hated them. He always considered it a piece of good fortune when he heard bad news of any one. He lived in solitude, for whenever he had been seduced into helping some one he had always repented of it afterward. A ball had once pa.s.sed through his hat, and, during the examination, the magistrate had said to the officer, "If he should ever be killed by a shot, you had better examine the whole village, for we shall all have had a share in it." He lived strictly within the law, however. He did not want to be beloved: it was his boast that every one could say, "He is severe, but just." He had no consideration either for rich or poor.

He was in the vigor of life, with a gray beard, aquiline nose, and wondrously clear liquid blue eyes, of a piercing brilliancy.

He came up to me with a friendly air, that was quite unusual on his part, and told me that Ernst had been with him that day.

Ernst had said nothing to me of this. Rautenkron declared that he did not concern himself about other people, but that he was really sorry that Ernst was about to throw himself away. Here was another young man who was fit for heroic deeds, but was ruined in this good-for-nothing age, and was about to sacrifice his life to a coquettish forest girl.

It was unpardonable that we should countenance him in this, and consent to take a creature from out of the thicket into a house which had always borne so honorable a name.

"Mark my words! She will be just like a young fox that is caught before he has finished his growth,--he will never be perfectly tamed, but will run away to his home when you least expect it, and be right in doing so."

It is always galling to hear pure affection thus abused and misconstrued.

I endeavored to change the subject, but Rautenkron affected not to hear me, and indulged in the most violent language against the stranger.

Indeed, he prophesied that our thoughtless conduct would drag us into misfortune, and called the miller to bear witness to what he thus told me.

I abruptly refused to continue the subject, and now Rautenkron called out to me, his eyes beaming with joy, "Enough. Let us speak of something else. I have to-day done one of the prettiest deeds of my life. Shall I tell you what? All right! You know Wollkopf the wood dealer. He has such a mild, insinuating way about him, but always eyed me as the usurer does a suspicious-looking pledge. He did not trust me.

'But,' thought I to myself, 'just wait! I will bide my time; he will come yet.' And he has come at last, within shooting distance too. At the last sale of wood in my district, he had bought a large lot of logs, and then came up to me and said that he wanted to speak plain German with me. Now listen to what the honored town-councillor--you know that is his position--the acknowledged man of honor, calls plain speaking! He offered me a bribe if I would keep such and such logs out of his lot. Of course I agreed. Smoking our cigars, we went on walking through the woods. I quickly cut down an oak sapling, pulled the branches from it, and with the green wood beat the lean man of honor to my heart's content. He cried out with all his might, but no one heard him save the cuckoo, and I enjoyed beating him until he was black and blue; just as the cuckoo enjoys swallowing the caterpillar which poisons the fingers of your soft-skinned gentry. I tell you there is no greater pleasure than administering personal chastis.e.m.e.nt to a sharper.

Men say that the kiss of the beloved one is good; perhaps it is, but this is better.

"And when I was satisfied, and he too, I suppose, had enough, I let him run, and said to him, 'Now, my sweet gentleman, you may sue me if you choose; but, if you do, it will be my turn to tell my story.'"

While Rautenkron told his story, his features acquired an uncanny expression of glee. I must admit that I did not begrudge the sharper the beating he had received; and besides that, the recital had engaged my attention, and thus had relieved me from the sad thoughts which had before that filled my mind.

It was already dusk when the wagon arrived. It halted. My wife said to the girl who was sitting at her side, "This is father. Speak to him."

"I hope you are well, father!" exclaimed the girl.

I heard Rautenkron beside me muttering angrily. His words, however, were unintelligible. Without saying more he hurried off into the forest.

"What ails the misanthrope now?" said my wife. "But why need that trouble us? My child, you had better get out here and follow with father."

I helped the child to alight. She seemed loth to obey.

CHAPTER VIII.

I was obliged to halt. I felt as if trying to drag a heavily laden wagon up the hill.

But let me proceed. I have many a steep path yet to climb.

I stood with the girl on the highway. I extended my hand and uttered a few words of welcome, but they did not come from the heart. Our wayward son had imposed a great burden on us. The young maiden appeared to pay no attention to what I was saying, but looked about in every direction.

As it was dusk, I could not see her distinctly. I could perceive, however, that she was a powerful creature. She did not regulate her step by mine, but I was forced to keep step with her unless I wished to be left behind.

"What dog is this running after us?" said I.

"It is my dog. Isn't it so, Pincher? Aren't you my dog?"

The dog answered with a bark, and kept running back and forth, now up the road and now down. When she whistled to him, in huntsman's style, he obeyed.

"Master," asked she, without resting a moment while speaking, "and does all as far as the eye can reach belong to you?"

"Why do you inquire?"

"Why? because I want to know. It must be jolly here in the daytime."

"Indeed it is."

"Is that the graveyard where I see the crosses and the white stones?"

"Yes."

"Can it be seen from your house?"

"It can."

"Too bad! that will never do. I can't bear to look out of the window. I can't stay there, I won't stay; you must take away that graveyard; how can one laugh or sing with that constantly before one's eyes? Or how could I eat or drink? I once found a dead man in the forest. He had been lying there ever so long, and was quite eaten away. I can't bear to have Death always staring me in the face. I won't stay here."

I was obliged to stop. I felt so oppressed that I could not move from the spot.

The oxen that I had sold the day before were just being led down the hill. When Martella saw them she cried out, "Oh what splendid beasts!

are they yours?"