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She passed down the aisle, and the head vintner followed, wagging his head. He was not at all satisfied with that tableau. He employed men to work; he wanted no love-affairs inside his vineyards. As for her highness, she had come for the sole purpose of seeing Gretchen's lover; and it occurred to her that the really desirable men were generally unencumbered by titles.
I never went again into Gretchen's quarter of the city, not even into its vicinity: and as my old walls and towers became gradually disagreeable to me, so also was I displeased at the constitution of the city; all that hitherto seemed so worthy of honor now appeared to me in distorted shapes.
Gretchen's eyes roamed undecidedly from the duke to Herbeck. "She is dead, Highness, and I found this letter under her pillow." It was Herbeck's hand that took the envelope. But he did not open it at once. "Dead?" Hildegarde's eyes filled. "Who is dead?" demanded the duke. "Emma Schultz, father. Oh, I know you will forgive me for this deception.
To-night there was love in the duke's eyes as he looked down the table's length; there was love in the old chancellor's eyes, too; and in Carmichael's. And there was love in her eyes as she gazed back at the two old men. But who could read her eyes whenever they roved in Carmichael's direction? Not even Gretchen's grandmother, who lived in the Krumerweg.
The young vintner whom Carmichael had pushed against the wall that day smiled from under the deep shade of his hat, drawn down well over his face. "Gretchen, who was that speaking to you?" "Herr Carmichael, the American consul." "Carmichael!" The arm in Gretchen's stiffened. "What is it, Leo?" "Nothing. Only, I grow mad with rage when any of these gentlemen speak to you. Gentlemen!
She found him refreshingly attractive, both for his own sake and as a change from the pompous professors she encountered so often in the library. As she drifted into sleep, the hot water bottle pressed against herself, she hoped she would have the opportunity for another such conversation with Professor Bridwell. Gretchen's cart of books was extraordinarily loaded.
While Paris is frantically shouting A Berlin!, while all Germany is singing and meaning Die Wacht am Rhein, Moltke's order goes forth into the towns and villages of the Fatherland for the mobilisation of the Reserves. Hans was singing Die Wacht am Rhein last night over his beer; but there is little heart for song left in him as he looks from that paper on the deal table into Gretchen's face.
If I were a king, I'd barter my crown for a smile and a kiss. I have done no wrong; I have committed no crime. But you must have proof; so be it. We will go together to the police-bureau and settle this doubt once and for all." "When?" Gretchen's heart was growing warm again. "Now, to-night, while they are hunting for me." "Forgive me!" brokenly. "Come!" "No, Leopold, this test is not necessary."
"You say she wore the costume of a Gipsy child when you lost her?" said the duke. "Yes." Von Arnsberg took from under his coat a small bundle which he opened with shaking fingers. He had been in the Krumerweg that afternoon. "Why, those are mine!" exclaimed Gretchen excitedly. "You see?" said Von Arnsberg. "Would you not like to be a princess, Gretchen?" A princess? Gretchen's heart fluttered.
Sometimes, when the weather was fine, or her Granny had an extra bundle of newly knitted stockings to take to the village, she would let little Gretchen go along with her. It chanced that one of these trips to the town came just the week before Christmas, and Gretchen's eyes were delighted by the sight of the lovely Christmas-trees which stood in the window of the village store.
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