“Why not?” demanded Johann, fiercely. “Are you afraid of my discovering who is the gentleman who has fallen in love with your—cider?”
He pronounced the last word with a sarcastic emphasis which made the old man recoil, and turn a startled glance at Dorothea. The girl was gazing from one to the other with quickly dawning consciousness.
“I had one errand to the Castle already; now I have two,” pursued the young man, pitilessly. “Be assured I will find out this Herr Maurice, and demand an explanation from him.”
“No, no!” exclaimed the alarmed forester, carried away by his fears. “You must not meddle with Herr Maurice. I know who he is.”
Johann’s eyes flashed.
“What? Out with it, man, or it will be the worse for him and you!”
The old man gave an anxious glance at his daughter, and then bent forward and whispered two words in his nephew’s ear. His caution was thrown away.
“The King! I might have known it was that cursed race!”
And without even looking at Dorothea, Johann threw wide the gate, and strode on into the depth of the forest.
His first rush of anger worn off, Johann went forward steadily, shaping his course straight towards the royal palace, and walking with the step of one who has an errand of weight.