Chapter IV: Part 4

The mutual introductions were therefore not very cordial, and everybody seemed indeed glad when this ceremony was over and guests and hosts both sat down at table and the feelings of embarrassment could be concealed by the engrossing charms of eating and drinking. The Seldwylians were the first to recover their natural equanimity, and then there could be heard among them frequent outbursts of hilarity as they admired the dazzling table trappings. That indeed was to the liking of their hosts, and they were just on the point of starting a formal conversation on that topic, when the matter took a turn wholly unexpected by them. For the Seldwyla people, accustomed always to use their eyes, had quickly discovered the amorous and graceful topics which the weaver's art had embodied in the woof of this linen and the goldsmith's in the silver and goldware so liberally displayed before their eyes. After allowing, therefore, their ribald glances to dwell with a close scrutiny on the lustful scenes depicted here, many Seldwylians called the attention of their neighbors to it all, all smiles and good humor, and interpreted the true meaning of the scene in each instance, often naming Ovid or some other heathen author as the original source. Even the Seldwyla ladies did not refrain, but shared in this amusement of their husbands. The hosts at first were slow to understand this and were inclined to think it one of the childish tricks for which they were forever blaming their merry neighbors of Seldwyla, but as they finally likewise bent their glances on the things occasioning the outbursts of their guests, they were as though smitten with palsy. For it had never entered their minds before to look with attention at these table appointments, and had merely accepted, when ordered by them, the exquisite products of the loom or of the goldsmith's skill as finished ware without ever bothering their heads further about it, and nothing had been further from them than to cast critical glances at the subjects represented by these artisans, and it was thus reserved for their gay guests from Seldwyla to sharpen their vision so to speak. Now when looking closer and closer, they perceived what pagan horrors they had chosen to ornament their own board with, and they were struck dumb with painful amazement. But what irked them still more was what they deemed the lack of tact and decorum on the part of their guests who, instead of purposely overlooking such an involuntary blunder of their hosts actually magnified it and drew it into the full glare of publicity. According to their way of thinking what the Seldwylians ought to have done under these peculiar circumstances was to praise and pay attention to the costliness of the stuff out of which these implements had been fashioned, and not to go beyond that. The Ruechensteiner grandees now were obliged to smile with faces as sour as vinegar when a Seldwylian neighbor would call their attention to an exquisitely wrought silver Leda and the Swan, or to a Europa on the back of her bull. Their wives, however, showed their displeasure more openly, blushed and paled by turns with wrath, and were just on the point of demonstratively leaving the banquet when the mournful sound of a bell quickly reassured them. For it was the poor sinners' bell of Ruechenstein. A dull and confused din in the streets gave notice that young Dietegen was now being led to his shameful death. All the company rose from the table, and hastened to the windows, the Ruechensteiners purposely making room for their guests to enable these to view the sad spectacle plainly, while they themselves stood in the rear, an insidious grin on their sallow features.

A priest, a hangman with his helper, some court officials, and a few armed attendants of the council went slowly past, and at their head walked Dietegen, barefooted and clad only in a white, black-edged delinquent shift, his hands tied in the back, and led by the hangman at a rope. His golden hair fell in a shower down his white neck, and confused and appealingly he looked aloft at the houses which he passed. Under the portal of the town hall stood the boys and girls from Seldwyla, who had, after the manner of children, left the table and the weary banquet, and had hastened into the open air. When the pitiful delinquent saw these pretty and happy children, the like he had never yet perceived before, he wanted to stop a moment and talk to them, while tears were streaming down his pale cheeks. But the executioner roughly pushed him on, so that the train passed on and had soon disappeared from view. The Seldwyla ladies lost color when they watched this scene, and their men were seized with a deep dismay, since they at no time loved to see sights of this kind. They felt out of spirits and not at home with their hosts after such an exhibition, and thus they soon yielded to the urging of their womenfolk, and as politely as they could took leave of their grim hosts. The people of Ruechenstein, on the other hand, were satisfied with the triumph they had scored against their volatile guests, and thereby rendered almost complaisant towards them, so that both sides parted amicably. The hosts even escorted their honored guests, as they put it, to the town gate, and were talkative, gallant towards the ladies, and courteous.

Outside the gate the Seldwyla cavalcade met the small group of hangmen and their assistants, who passed them morosely. Behind them there came a single helper pushing a small cart whereon lay, in a plain pine coffin, the young delinquent's body. Shy and bitten with curiosity to watch this number of brilliantly attired persons, this fellow stopped for a moment, and turned aside, in order to let the procession file past him. He was placing the loose lid of the bier in its proper place, it having almost slid off and exposed the sight of the hanged.

Among the children of Seldwyla there was a seven-year-old maid, bold, pretty and curly, who had never ceased to weep since seeing the poor boy being led to the gallows, and refused to be consoled. And as the train of Seldwylians now slowly swept on, the child at the moment she came up with the cart and coffin, quickly sprang towards it, stood on its large wheel, and threw off the lid, so that the lifeless Dietegen lay exposed to view. At that moment he opened his eyes and drew a breath. For in the confusion of that day he had not been hanged according to traditional rules, and had been taken off the gallows too early, because his executioners were in a great hurry in the hope of returning to town in time to get some of the remnants of the feast. The bold little girl loudly exclaimed, "He is still alive! He is still alive!"

At once the women of Seldwyla surrounded the bier, and when they saw indeed the handsome pale boy move about and give signs of life, they took possession of him, removed him from the cart, and fully recalled him to this world by rubbing his stiffened joints, sprinkling him with water, making him swallow some wine, and using all their endeavors in other ways. The men indeed also gave their assistance, while the gentlemen of Ruechenstein stood by dazedly, and did not know what to say or do. When at last the boy again stood on his own feet, and gazed about him as though he had waked in paradise, he suddenly caught a glimpse of the hangman's assistant, and quite astounded that he, too, as he thought, had gone to heaven, he fled and squeezed in among the crowd of women. Touched and moved to tears, they begged with great earnestness of their stern neighbors to pardon the boy and to make them a gift of him, as a token of their new friendship. Their husbands joined in this petition, and finally, after a brief consultation amongst themselves, the Ruechensteiners yielded assent, saying that henceforth the youthful sinner was to be theirs. On this the pretty Seldwyla ladies and their young children rejoiced abundantly, and Dietegen went along with them just as he was, in his poor delinquent's shift.

It happened to be a fine mild summer evening, wherefore the Seldwyla folks, as soon as they had reached the crest of the mountain and therewith also their own territory, resolved to amuse themselves here in this delightful grove, on their own account, and to recover from the frightful experience on their neighbors' ground. And this all the more because there now approached a numerous reenforcement from Seldwyla itself, full of curiosity to learn what their luck had been in Ruechenstein. Thus it came to pass that the musicians had to intone a merry tune and next a dance, and the goblets and tankards were filled with the wine they had brought along, and then circulated quite rapidly.

During all these scenes Dietegen let his eyes roam all around, and all who saw him perceived clearly that he was indeed nothing worse than an innocent and harmless child, a notion which his tale, when asked to state the facts, amply confirmed. The Seldwyla women could hardly get their fill of the sight, wove a wreath of wildflowers for him, and placed it on his young head, so that in his long and ample shift he looked almost like a little saint. He won their hearts, and at last they kissed him to their full content, and when he had thus passed through the concourse of rivaling femininity they began anew with their kissing.

But the little girl who really had saved Dietegen from a horrible and premature death did not at all approve of this proceeding. Quite wroth she suddenly placed herself between the boy and the woman who just that moment was on the point of kissing him, and took him by the hand, leading him to a group of other children. Then the whole company burst out laughing, saying: "That is quite right. Little Kuengolt clings to her property! And she has taste likewise. Only see how well she and the boy look alongside of each other!"

Kuengolt's father, however, the chief forester of the town, remarked: "I like the looks of that boy. He has eyes that speak truth and good sense. If you gentlemen have no objection, I will take him along for the time being, since I have but one child, and I will try and make an honest huntsman out of him."

This proposal met the unanimous approval of the Seldwylians, and thus Kuengolt, well contented, did not let the boy's hand slip out of her fingers more, but kept tight hold of it. And indeed, these two did make a very comely pair. The little girl also wore a wreath on her head and was clad in green and red, the town's colors. Hence they went at the head of the whole merry procession like a picture from fairyland, in the midst of the gay townspeople. And thus they all in the glow of sunset poured down the mountain side on their way homewards. Soon, however, the chief forester separated from the procession and went on with the children on side paths to his cosy residence, which lay not far from the city itself in the forest. A double row of tall trees led to the main entrance, and there the demure wife of the forester sat now, and saw with amazement the approach of the two children.

The household servants also gathered, and while the wife gave the two hungry children an abundant supper her husband related in detail the adventures of the boy. The latter was now completely exhausted, and with that he felt cold in his flimsy costume, and hence the question was put who would share overnight his bed with him. But the servant maids as well as the men anxiously avoided to answer. They dreaded as unlucky and impious close touch with any one who had just been hanging from the gallows. But Kuengolt cried: "Let him share my bed. It is large enough for both of us."

And when everybody was laughing at this, her mother said pleasantly: "You are quite right, my little daughter." And looking closely at the boy she added: "From the very first moment I saw the poor little chap enter the door a strange foreboding crept over me, as though a good angel were coming who will yet bring us a blessing. That much is certain, according to my idea: he will not be of evil to us all!"

With that she took the two children into the adjoining bedchamber, next to the large one, and put them to bed. Dietegen, who was so sleepy that he scarcely noticed what was going on around him, instinctively went through the motions for disrobing. But since he was already, in a manner of speaking, in his shirt, his drowsy motions made such a ludicrous impression, especially upon the little girl, that she, already under her blanket, could not help screaming with mirth: "Oh, just watch the comical shirtmannikin! He is always trying to take off his spenser and boots, and yet he hasn't any!" Her mother, too, had to smile and said to the boy: "In God's name, go to bed in your poor sinner's shift! My poor boy, that shift is quite new and really of good linen. Truly, these wicked people of Ruechenstein at least do their atrocities with a certain amount of decency."

In saying which she wrapped the two little ones up well in their blankets, and could not forbear to kiss both of them, so that Dietegen was really better off than he had ever been in his whole life. But his eyes were already tightly closed and his soul in deep sleep. "But now he has not said his prayers at all," whispered Kuengolt in sorrow. Her mother replied: "Then you will do it for both of you, my little daughter!" and left the two. And indeed, the girl now said the Lord's prayer twice, once for herself, once for her new bedfellow. And then quiet reigned in the little chamber.

Some time after midnight Dietegen woke up, because only now his neck had begun to pain him from the unfriendly rope of the hangman. The chamber was flooded with moonlight, but he was perfectly unable to recall where he was and how he had come there. Merely this he was conscious of, that he aside from his sore throat, was far better of! than ever before in his young life. The window stood open, a spring outside murmured softly, and the silver night blew whisperingly through the tree tops; over them all the moon shone in gentle radiance. All this to him was wondrous, since he had never before seen the solitude of the forest, neither by day nor by night. He gazed sleepily, he listened, and finally he assumed a sitting posture. Then he perceived next to him on the couch little Kuengolt, the moon's beams playing right over her small face. She lay still, but was broad awake, since excitement and joy would not let her sleep. Because of that her eyes were opened to their full extent, and her mouth was smiling when Dietegen peered into her face.

"Why don't you sleep? You ought to sleep," said the girl. But he then complained of the pain at his throat. At once little Kuengolt weaved her tender arms around his neck and full of pity put her own cheeks against his. And really it soon seemed to him that his pain subsided under such sympathetic treatment. And then they began to chat in a low voice. Dietegen was asked to tell about himself. But he was reticent because there was not much to tell that was pleasant, and about the misery of his childhood he also was not able to say a great deal, since no contrasts were within his ken, with the single exception of that evening. Suddenly, however, he recalled his pleasant sport with the crossbow, which had slipped his mind before, and so he told the little girl all about the Jew, and how that one had been the cause of his imprisonment and unjust sentence, but also about how he had taken great delight in shooting with the crossbow, for over an hour, and how he now longed for just such a weapon.

"My father has crossbows and weapons of every type in plenty," commented Kuengolt breathlessly. "And you may start in to-morrow and shoot all you wish."

And then she set out to tell him about all the nice things in the house, and she included in these her own pretty knicknacks, locked up in a casket, especially two golden "rainbow" keys, a necklace of amber, a volume full of holy legends, illustrated with pictures showing saints in their beautiful vestments, and also a multicolored medallion in which sat a Mother of God clad in gold brocade and vermilion silk, and covered with a tiny round glass. Also, she enumerated further, she owned a silver-gilt spoon, with a quaintly turned handle, but with that she would be permitted to eat only when she was grown up and had a husband of her own. And when it came to her wedding she would get the bridal jewelry of her mother, together with her blue brocade dress, which was so thick and heavy that it stood up without any one being inside of it. Then she kept still a short while, but pressing her bedfellow more closely against her heart, she said in a very low voice: "Listen, Dietegen!"

"Well, what is it?" he answered.

"You must be my husband when we are big. For you belong to me. Will you, of your own free will?"

"Why, yes," he replied.

"Then you must shake hands on it," she remarked, in a peremptory voice. He did so, and after this binding promise the two children finally fell asleep and did not wake till the sun stood high in the heavens. For the kind mother had purposely refrained from rousing them, so that the poor boy should have a thorough rest.

But now at last she cautiously crept into the little chamber, bearing on her arm a complete boy's suit of clothing. Two years before her own son had been killed by the fall of an oak tree, and the clothes of this boy of hers, although he had been Dietegen's senior by a whole year, were likely to fit him, since he was just his size. And it was her lost boy's holiday attire, which in a saddened spirit she had preserved. Therefore she had risen with the sun, in order to remove from the doublet some gay ribbons ornamenting it, and to sew up the slits in the sleeves which let the silk lining peep forth. Her tears had flown anew in doing this labor, when she saw the scarlet silken lining that glinted from below the black jerkin gradually disappear from view, as jocund spring vanished in sorrow, and become of a piece with the black trunks. The tears were shed because of the death of her own dear boy, but a sweet consolation tinctured her soul since Fate now had sent her such a handsome, lovable little fellow, one who had been snatched, so to speak, out of Death's hard grasp, and whom she now could clothe in the habiliments of her own son. And it was not from haste or fear of the task that she left the gay silken lining under the sable outer covering, but on purpose, as the hidden fire of affection in her bosom moved her. For she was of those who mean better by their familiars than they dare show openly. If the new boy proved worthy of it, she vowed to herself, she would open the seams of the slits again, for his joy and pride. Anyway, on workadays Dietegen was to wear this suit but for a few days, until one of stronger and more suitable material should have been made for him to measure by the tailor, one that he could expose to rough usage during his ordinary occupations. But while she instructed the boy how to put on this fine suit of a kind to which he was quite unused, little Kuengolt had slipped out of bed, and in a spirit of childish mischief had got hold of the gallows shift, which she now put on and was stalking gravely in about the room, trailing its tail behind her on the floor. With that she kept her little hands folded behind her, as though they were tied by the hangman. Then she sang aloud: "I am a miserable sinner now, and even lack my hose, I trow." At this the kindly woman fell into a great affright, grew deadly pale, and said in a low, soft voice: "For our Savior's sake, who is teaching you such wicked jokes, my child?" And she seized the ominous shift from the little girl's hands, who smiled at this, but Dietegen took it, being wroth at the scene, and tore it into a score of pieces.

Now that the two children were dressed they were taken along for breakfast in the adjoining room. Early in the morning bread had been baked, and with the milk soup the little ones received each a fresh loaf of cummin seed bread, and in place of the one sweet roll which on ordinary days was specially baked for Kuengolt, there were two that day, and the little girl would have it that the boy received the larger of them. Dietegen ate without urging all that was offered him, just as though he had returned to his father's house after an enforced stay with evil strangers. But he was very still throughout, and he keenly observed everything around him: the pleasant mild woman who treated him like her own son, the sunny, light room, and the comfortable furniture with which it was fitted up. And after having eaten his breakfast with a good appetite, he continued these observations, noticing that the walls were wainscoted with smooth pine, and higher up decorated with painted wreaths and flowers, and that the leaded window panes showed the arms both of husband and wife. When he also carefully inspected the handsome closets and the sideboard with its load of shining vessels and tableware, he suddenly remembered the dingy silver jug that had almost brought him to his death, and the cheerless house of the beadle in Ruechenstein, and then, afraid that he should have to return there again, he asked with a tremor in his voice: "Must I now return home? But I don't know the way."

"There is no need of your knowing it," said the housewife, moved by his evident dread, and she stroked his smooth chin. "Have you not yet noticed that you are to remain with us? Go along with him now, my little Kuengolt, and show him the house and the woods, and everything else. But do not go too far away!"

Then Kuengolt took the boy by the hand, and first led him into the forester's armory where he kept his weapons. And there hung seven magnificent crossbows and arquebuses, and spears and javelins for the chase, hangers and dirks, and also the long sword of the master of the house which stood in the corner by itself. Dietegen examined all this, silently but with gleaming eyes, and Kuengolt mounted a chair to take down several of the finest crossbows from the wall, which she handed him so that he could look them over more at leisure, and he was delighted with these, for they showed ornaments inlaid in ivory or mother-of-pearl, daintily done by some expert artisan. The boy admired it all, in a silent sort of ecstasy, about as would a rather talented prentice in the studio of a great master painter while the latter might be absent from home. But Kuengolt's quick proposal to have him try his marksmanship outside in a meadow could not be realized at the time, because the bolts and arrows were locked away in a separate receptacle. But to make up for that she gave him a fine hunting spear to hold so that he should have a weapon of some kind to take along into the greenwoods. Near the house she showed him a hedged-in space full of deer and game, in which the town constantly kept its reserve of stock, so that at no time there should be lack of venison and other fine roasts for public or private banquets. The girl coaxed several roes and stags to come to her at the hedge, and this was astonishing to Dietegen, for so far he had seen such animals only when dead. With his spear, therefore, he stood attentive, his eyes fixed on these pretty denizens of the woods, and could not get his fill of watching them. Eagerly he held out his hand to fondle a finely antlered stag, and when the latter shyly bounded aside and leisurely trotted off, the boy scurried after him with a joyous halloo, and ran and jumped with the animal around in a wide circle. It was perhaps the first time in his life that he could use his young limbs in this way, and when he felt how his tendons stretched with the violent exercise and how he was able to race with the swift stag, the latter apparently taking as much pleasure in the sport as Dietegen himself, a feeling of untried strength and agility first woke within him.

But as they later on stepped into the domain of the deep forest, high up on the hill, the boy resumed once more his usual air of thoughtful quiet and deliberation. Up there mighty trees grew closer together, leaving hardly a fragment of sky to discover from below--tall pine and gnarled oak, spreading lindens, beeches, maple and spruce, all growing in a semidarkness where the sunlight seldom pierced. Red squirrels glided spectrelike from trunk to trunk, woodpeckers hammered incessantly for their fare, high up birds of prey shrilly pursued their quarry in the open, and a thousand forest mysteries were dimly at work. Below, in the dense underbrush, hares and foxes, deer and smaller game were waging war, and song birds twittered or warbled in a chorus of multiform sound. Kuengolt laughed and laughed because the boy knew nothing of all these secret doings in the forest, although he had grown up in a mountain fastness surrounded by the very life of the woods, but she at once began to explain to him these things of which he was so profoundly ignorant. She showed him the hawk and his nest, the cuckoo in his retreat, and the gay-clad woodpecker as he was just clambering up a thick trunk with bark promising him rich harvest. And about all these things he was highly amazed, and wondered that trees and bushes should bear so many names, and that each should differ from the next. For he had not even known the hazelnut bush or the whortleberry in their haunts. They came to a rushing brook, and disturbed by their steps, a snake made off into the water, and the girl seized the spear in the boy's hand and wanted to stick it into the rocky nook. But when Dietegen saw that she was going to blunt or break the edge of the finely tempered weapon, he at once took it out of her fingers, saying that she might damage the spear.

"That is well done," suddenly came the voice of the chief forester, his patron; "you will prove a help to me." With a gamekeeper he stood behind the two children. For the noise of the rushing water had drowned in their ears all other noise. The gamekeeper bore in his hand a woodcock, just shot, for the two had gone forth early in the morning. Dietegen was permitted to hang the stately bird to the tip of his spear, flinging it over his shoulder, so that the spread wings of the bird enveloped him, and the forester gazed with approval upon the handsome youngster, and made up his mind to make an all-around woodsman of him.

Just now, though, he was to learn somewhat the difficult arts of reading and writing, and for that purpose was obliged to walk every day to town with the little girl; there in a convent and in a monastery the two were taught as much of these mysteries as seemed good for them. But his chief lessons Dietegen had from the little girl herself when coming and going from town, Kuengolt delighting in informing him as to all that was going on in the world, so far at least as she herself knew, and more particularly as to the ordinary things of life, as to which Dietegen had been left in deplorable ignorance by his former taskmaster, the beadle.

But the little instructress was in her way a ruthless practical joker, and followed a unique method of her own in teaching the boy. She exaggerated, distorted or plainly misstated the facts as to most things in talking to her pupil, and abused grossly the credulity and trustfulness of the boy, merely for her amusement, and she did this as to most things. In this she showed a wonderful gift of invention, an exuberant fancy of the rarest. When Dietegen then had accepted her fictions, and would perhaps express his wonder at them, she would shame him with the cool statement that not a single word had been true. She would scornfully blame him for believing such palpable untruths, and then, with a show of infinite wisdom, she would tell him the real facts. Then he would redden under her sarcastic remarks, and would endeavor to avoid her pitfalls, but only until she saw fit to make sport of him once more. However, in the course of time Dietegen's powers of judging facts began to widen, and he ceased to be so gullible, and this another boy who attempted to emulate Kuengolt's example found out to his sorrow. For Dietegen simply slapped his face when he came out with a particularly outrageous whopper.

Kuengolt, rather taken aback at witnessing this castigation, was curious to ascertain whether this wrath under given circumstances would also turn against herself. She made a test on the spot, feeding him with some of her choicest fairy tales. But from her he accepted everything without a murmur, and so she continued her peculiar method of instruction. At last, though, she discovered that he had acquired enough independence of thought and a large enough stock of knowledge to enable him to play with her himself. He would answer her inventions with counterinventions, and would argue from her nonsensical statements in such shrewd fashion as to turn her first doctrines into ridicule, and he would do this in perfect good-nature, proving the untenableness of her own theories. Then she came to the conclusion that it was time to give up her nonsense. But in place of that amusement she now indulged in another. Namely, she began to tyrannize over him most unmercifully. It grew so that it was almost worse than things had been with the beadle's wife. His servitude was deplorable. She made him fetch and carry during all his spare time. He had to haul and hoist and labor for her in a truly ridiculous manner. She constantly required his presence about her; he had to bring her water, shake the trees, dig in the garden, crack open nuts after getting them for her, hold her little basket, and even to brush and comb her hair she wanted to train him--only that is where he drew a line. But then he was scolded by her for refusing this, and when her mother took sides against her she became quite obstreperous with the latter as well.

But Dietegen did not pay her back in her own coin, never lost his patience with her, and was always equally submissive and indulgent with her. Her mother saw that with vast pleasure, and to reward him for his fine conduct she treated the boy like her own son, and gave him all those finer hints and that almost imperceptible guidance and advice which else are only saved for children of one's own, and by means of which children finally acquire without knowing it those habits and better manners which are commonly comprised under the name of a careful education. Of course, she herself gained in a way from this; for her own daughter thus acquired unconsciously many of her lessons, Dietegen being there as a sort of mirror of what was expected of her. Truly, it was almost comical how little Kuengolt in her restless temperament veered and shifted constantly between imitating her better model or else becoming jealous and wroth and scorning it for the time. On one occasion she became so excited as to stab at him with all her might with a sharp pair of scissors. But Dietegen caught her wrist quickly, and without hurting her or showing any anger he made her drop them. This little scene which her mother had espied from a hiding-place, moved the latter so strongly that she came forth, took the boy in her arms, and kissed him. Pale and excited the girl herself left the room with out a word. "Go, follow her, my son," whispered the mother, "and reconcile her. You are her good angel."

Dietegen did as bidden. He found her behind the house and under a lilac bush. She was weeping wildly and tearing her amber necklace, trying, in fact, to throttle herself by means of it, and stamping on the scattered beads on the ground. When Dietegen approached her and wanted to seize her hands, she cried with a great sob: "Nobody but I may kiss you. For you belong to me alone. You are mine, my property. I alone have freed you from that horrid coffin, in which without me you would have remained forever."

As the boy grew up marvelously, becoming handsomer and more manly with every day, the forester declared at breakfast one morning that the time was now ripe to take him along into the woods and let him learn the difficult craft of the huntsman. Thus he was taken from the side of Kuengolt, and spent now all his time, from dawn until nightfall, with the men, in forest, moor and heath. And now indeed his limbs began to stretch that it was a pleasure to watch him. Swift and limber like a stag, he obeyed each word or hint, and ran whither he was sent. Silent and docile, he was forever where wanted; carried weapons and tackle, gear and utensils, helped spread the nets, leaped across trenches and morass, and spied out the whereabouts of the game. Soon he knew the tracks of all the animals, knew how to imitate the call of the birds, and before any one expected it, he had a young wildboar run into his spear. Now, too, the forester gave him a crossbow. With it he was every day, every hour almost, exercising his skill, aiming at the target, shooting at living objects as well. In a word, when Dietegen was but sixteen, he was already an expert woodsman who might be placed anywhere, and it would happen now and then that his patron sent him out with a number of his men to guard the municipal woods and head the chase.

Dietegen, therefore, might be seen not alone with the crossbow on his back, but also with pen and ink-horn in his girdle upon the mountain side, and with his keen watchful eyes and his unfailing memory he was a great help to his fosterfather. And since with every day he became more reliable and useful, the master forester learned to love him better all along, and used to say that the boy must in the end become a full-fledged, an honorable and martial citizen.

It could under these circumstances not be otherwise than that Dietegen on his part was devoted soul and body to the forester. For there is no attachment like that of the youth for the mature man of whom he knows that he is doing his best to teach him all the secrets of his craft, and whom he holds to be his unapproached model.

The chief forester was a man of about forty; tall and well-built, with broad shoulders and of handsome appearance and noble carriage. His hair of golden sheen was already lightly sprinkled with silver, but his complexion was ruddy, and his blue eyes shone frank, open and full of fire. In his younger days, too, he had been among the wildest and merriest of Seldwyla's choice spirits, and many were the quaint and original quips he had perpetrated at that time of his life. But when he had won his young wife, he altered instantly, and since then he had been the soberest and the most sensible man in the world. For his dear wife was of a most delicate habit, and of a kindness of heart that could not defend itself, and although by no means without a spirit and a wit of her own, she would have been unable to meet unkindness with a sharp tongue. A wife of ready wit and pugnacity would probably have spurred this naturally sprightly man on to further doings, but in contest with the graceful feebleness of this delicate wife of his he behaved like the truly strong. He watched over her as over the apple of his eye, did only those things which gave her pleasure, and after his busy day's work remained gladly at his own hearth.

At the most important festivities of the town only, three or four times a year, he went among the councilmen and other citizens, led them with his fresh vigor in deliberation and at the festive board, and after drinking one after the other of the great guzzlers under the table, he would, as the last of the doughty champions, rise upright from his seat, stride quietly out of the council chamber, and then with a jolly smile walk uphill to his forest home.

But the chief comedy would always come the next day. For then he would waken, after all, with a head that hummed like a beehive, and then he would rouse himself fully, half morosely, half with a leonine jovial humor that indeed had the dimensions of a lion when compared with the proverbial distemper of the average toper. Early he would then show up at breakfast, the sun shining with strength upon his naked scalp, and ignoring his symptoms, he would jest and make fun of himself and his achievements of the previous night. His wife, then, always hungering after her husband's humor, he being usually rather reticent, would then answer his sallies with a merry laughter, so bell-like and wholesouled as one would never have suspected in a being so demure as she. His children would laugh, also his gamekeepers and huntsmen, and lastly his servants. And in that way the whole day would pass. Everything that day would be done with a bright smile and a salvo of hearty laughter. And always the chief forester leading them all, handling his axe, lifting heavy weights, doing the work of three ordinary men. On such a day it was once that fire broke out in the town. High above burning roofs a poor old woman, in her frail wooden balcony, forgotten and disregarded, was shrilly crying and moaning for help from a fiery death, and above her shoulder her tame starling went through the drollest of antics, likewise claiming attention. Nobody could think of a way to save mistress and bird. The flames came nearer and ever nearer. But our chief forester climbed up to a protruding coping on a high wall facing the old woman's nook, a spot where he stood like a rock. Then with herculean strength he pulled up a long ladder to him, turned it over and balanced it neatly until it touched the window where the old hag was struggling for breath. He placed it securely within the opening, on the sill, and then he strode across it, firm and unafraid, back and forth, carrying the ancient woman safely across his shoulder, and the stuttering starling on his head, the greedily licking flames and the swirling clouds of smoke beneath his feet. And all this he did, not by any means in a heroic pose, as something dangerous or praiseworthy, but as though it were a harmless joke, smiling and laughing.

After a solid piece of work of that kind he would feast with his family in jolly style, dishing up the best the house afforded. And at such times he always was particularly tender to his wife, taking her on his knee, to the great amusement of the children, and dubbing her his "little whitebird," and his "swallow," and she, her arms clasped in pleasurable self-forgetfulness, would laughingly watch his antics.

On a day like that, too, he once arranged for a dance, it being the first of May. He had a musician fetched from town, and got likewise some merry young folks to increase the sport. And there was dancing aplenty on the smooth greensward in front of the house, right under the blooming trees, and dainty dancing it was. The chief forester opened the merriment with his smiling young wife, she in her modest finery and with her girlish shape. As they made the first steps, she looked over her shoulder at the youngsters, happy as could be, and tipping her foot on the green sod, impatient to be off. Just then Dietegen, who for much of the time past had kept to the men entirely, threw a glance at Kuengolt, and lo! he saw that she also was growing up to be a handsome woman, as pretty a picture as her mother. Her features indeed strongly resembled those of her mother, small, regular and charming. But in her figure she took more after her father, for she was trimly built like a straight young pine, and although but fourteen her bosom was already rounded like that of a grown-up damsel. Golden curls fell in a shower down her back and hid the somewhat angular shoulderblades. She was clad all in green, wore around her neck her amber beads, and on her head, according to the fashion of those days, a wreath of rosebuds. Her eyes shone pleasantly and frankly from a guileless face, but once in a while they would flash wilfully and glide casually over the row of youths whose eyes hung on her youthful beauty, with a slightly critical bent, and at last rest for an instant on Dietegen, then turn away again. Dietegen looked as though hungering for recognition, but she only once more glanced back at him. But that glance seemed to have somewhat embarrassed her, for she stopped to arrange her hair, while he flushed deeply.

That indeed was the first time when they two felt they were no longer mere children. But a few minutes later they met and found themselves partners in a country dance, hand in hand. A new and sweet sensation pulsed through his veins, and this remained even after the ring of dancers had again been broken.

Kuengolt, however, had still the same feeling regarding him; she looked upon the youth as upon something all her own, as something belonging to her, and of which, therefore, one may be sure and need not guard closely. Only once in a while she would send a spying glance in his direction, and when accident would bring him into the close neighborhood of another maiden, there would also be Kuengolt watching him.

Thus innocent pleasure reigned until an advanced hour of the evening. The young people became as sprightly as new-fledged wood pigeons, and soon even excelled in their merry humor their bounteous host, and the latter on his part delighted to pleasure his amiable young wife, while soberly encouraging his youthful guests in amusing themselves. She, the wife, was serene and happy as sunlight in springtime. And she even became playful enough to call her brawny husband by intimate nicknames.

But harmless and decorous as all this was, it may be that the citizens of other towns where merriment was not the natural birthright, as in the case of the Seldwylians, would have deemed it a trifle beyond the proper limits. The spiced May wine which was served the guests had been mingled in its elements according to ancient usage, but just as in their joy itself there was a bit too much license, so also there was a trifle too much honey in the drink. The hands of the young girls lay perhaps somewhat too frequently upon the shoulders of the youths, and now and then, without meaning any harm, a couple would quickly kiss and part, and this without playing at blind man's buff, as do the philistines of our days under similar conditions. In short, what these young people of Seldwyla lacked in their diversion was the gift of attracting without seeming to; but with this gift, on the other hand, Dietegen, as a regulation Ruechensteiner, was plentifully endowed. For although he was already in love, he fled like fire from the fondling and caressing which with these Seldwyla couples was by now rather freely indulged in, and preferred to keep himself out of the danger line. All the bolder and provoking was Kuengolt who, in her childish ignorance and after the manner of half-grown girls, did not know how to control her affections, and who went to look up the frigid youth. She discovered him seated in the shadow of a group of darksome trees, and sat down beside him, seizing his hand and playfully twining his fingers. When he submitted to that and even, gently and almost in a fatherly way, spun her ringlets in his palm, the girl at once put her arms around his neck and caressed him with the innocence but also with the abandon of a child, whereas in truth it was already the maiden that spoke out of her. Dietegen, however, no longer a child, essayed to use his maturer judgment for both of them, and thus was strenuously trying to loosen her hold on him, when his fostermother, the chief forester's wife, came joyously running up to the bench, and noticed with particular pleasure how matters stood apparently.

"That is right," she cried, "that you, too, are of accord," and she embraced them both tightly. "I hope and trust, my dearest daughter, that you will love and cherish Dietegen with all your might. He is deserving indeed, my child, that he not only has found a new home in our house, but that you, too, will give him a home in your little heart. And you, dear Dietegen, will, I know, at all times be a true and faithful protector and guardian to my little Kuengolt. Never leave her out of your sight, for your eyes are keen and observant."

"He is nobody's but mine, and has been for long," said Kuengolt to this, and she kissed him boldly and lightly upon the cheek, half like a bride and half as a child caresses a kitten which belongs to it. But now the situation for the poor bashful youth, thus hemmed in between mother and daughter, became unbearable, and he flushed and awkwardly loosened their combined hold of him, stepping back a few paces to escape their blandishments. But Kuengolt, in her wilful mood, pursued him laughing, and when in his retreat from her he came into close proximity to the pretty mother, the latter jestingly caught him by the arm, saying: "Here he is, my little daughter, now come and hold him fast."

When thus entrapped anew by them, his heart beat excitedly, and while finding himself thus wooed, so to speak, by both feminine tempters, he at the same time felt intensely his lonesome condition in the world. The odd conceit overcame him that he was a lost soul shaken from the tree of life, which while cherished by soft hands, was nevertheless to be forever deprived of its own existence and individuality, a state of mind which with callow youths thus beset may be more frequent than commonly supposed. Therefore, a prey to two conflicting emotions equally powerful, of which one necessarily excluded the other, his strong sense of personal freedom struggling within his breast with the new-born sentiment of tender regard, he stood mute and trembling, half in rebellion against the sudden intimate aggression of the two women, and half strongly inclined to draw the young girl into his arms and to overwhelm her with caresses. His Ruechenstein blood was against him. While he loved the mother with a wholesouled and most grateful devotion, her thoughtless encouragement of him to play a lover's part towards her daughter seemed to him strange and unbecoming. He looked upon himself as really Kuengolt's property, as truly belonging to her by reason of her having saved his forfeited life. But at the same time he felt himself seriously responsible for her moral conduct, for her maiden chastity and her correct manners, and when now Kuengolt strove to kiss him on the mouth, he said to her, in perfect good humor but withal in the tone of a crabbed schoolmaster: "You are really still too young for things of that kind. This is not suitable for your age."

At these words the girl paled with shame and annoyance. Without another syllable she turned away and joined once more the throng of merrymakers, where she danced and sprang about recklessly a few times, and then sat down a little distance away by herself, with a face that betrayed clearly how hurt she was at the rebuff.

The chief forester's wife smilingly stroked the strict young moralist's cheek, saying: "Well, well, you are certainly very strict. But the more faithfully you will one day take care of my child. Give me your promise never to desert her! Only don't forget, we Seldwyla folk are all of us rather gay and debonair, and it is possible that in being so we sometimes do not think enough of the future."

Dietegen's eyes grew wet, and he gave her his hand in solemn vow. Then she conducted him back to the others. But Kuengolt turned her back on him, and instead in real grief gazed into the mild May night.

He on his part now marveled at himself. Strange, now of a sudden this girl whom but a minute before he had misnomed a mere child, was old and grown-up enough to cause him, the moralizing youth, love pangs. For sad and confused he too stood now aside and felt still more ashamed than the girl herself.

"What ails you? Why do you look so sorrowful?" asked the forester, when he in the best humor in the world now approached the group. But Kuengolt at the question broke into passionate tears, and exclaimed before everybody: "He was a gift to me by the judges when he was really nothing but a poor lifeless corpse, and I have reawakened him to life. And therefore he has no right to sit in judgment on me, but rather I alone am his judge. And he must do everything I want, and when I love to kiss him it is his business to simply keep still and let me do it."

They all laughed at this odd statement, but the mother took Dietegen's hand and led him to the child, saying: "Come, make up with her and let her kiss you once more. Later on you, also, shall be her master, and shall do as you see fit in such matters."

Blushing deeply because of the many onlookers, Dietegen offered his mouth to the girl, and she seized him by his curls, quite in a frenzy, and kissed him hard, more in wrath than in love, and then, having once more thrown him a look that betrayed anger, she quickly turned on her heels and dashed away in such haste that her golden ringlets fluttered in the night air and in passing brushed his face.

But now the reluctant fire of love had also been kindled in his own young soul, and soon after he left the throng and went in search of rash Kuengolt, striding rapidly and gazing all about for her. At last he discovered her on the other side of the house where she sat dreamily at the well, and was playing with the amber beads of her necklace. Advancing quickly he seized both her hands, compressed them in his vigorous right, and then laid his left on her shoulder so that she shuddered, and said: "Listen, child, I shall not permit you to trifle with me. From to-day on you are just as much my own property as I am yours, and no other man shall have you living. Keep that in mind when some day you will be grown up."