For ten minutes she sat alone; then the door was flung open and her host returned, no longer with the gay air that had sat like a new cloak upon him, but hot and sulky, the jug in his hand empty still.
"I could not milk the cow," he admitted shortly. "I chased one brute and then another; one I caught, but something was wrong with the abominable beast, for no milk would she give me."
"Pray don't mind," Sylvia soothed him, hiding laughter. "You were kind to try. Luckily you're not the Kaiser, who prides himself on doing all things. I wonder, now, if he could milk a cow?"
"He should learn, if not," broke out the chamois-hunter. "There's no telling, it seems, when one may want the strangest accomplishments, 61 and be shamed for lack of them."
"No, not shamed," protested Sylvia. "I am no longer thirsty, and you have been so good. See; while you were gone, I ate the bread-and-ham, and never did any meal taste better. Now, you will have many things to do; I've trespassed too long; and, besides, I have a friend waiting. Will you tell me by what name I shall remember you when I recall this day?"
"They named me—for the Kaiser."
"Oh, then I shall call you Max. Max! What a nice name! I like it, I think, as well as any I have ever heard. Will you shake hands for good-bye?"
The strong hand came out eagerly. "But it is not good-bye, gna' Fräulein. You must let me help you back to the path and down the mountain."
"I wished, but dared not ask that of you, lest—like your namesake—you were a hater of women.
"That is too hard a word, even for an emperor, lady. While as for me—well, if I ever said to myself, 'Women are not much good to men as 62 their companions', I'm ready to unsay it."