Franz, after lounging about in his usual way, left am Sand, announcing his intention of going to Meran. Before he had proceeded far, however, some one said "Hist!" and he looked round and saw Donay.
"Well?" said the priest, coming up to him, and walking with him.
"Well," said Franz, "I've been there, and breakfasted there, but to no good. Theresa wouldn't drop a word that one could lay hold of."
"Ah, there are other things besides words that sharp people can lay hold of," said Father Donay. "For example, I have laid hold of something that certifies to me the Sandwirth has been to his house and from it, within these twelve hours."
"Aye? And yet, father, we've watched that house as a cat watches a mouse!"
"Pooh, pooh!"
"What's your proof?"
"His footprints, my son. One day, at Innsbruck, when your famous Hofer was lodging in the imperial palace, he kept me waiting some time. I left without seeing him; but, before I did so, happening to observe a pair of his clumsy boots lying on the parqueté floor, which they graced as well as he graced the palace, I soiled my hands so far as to take their length and breadth."
"That was far-sighted of you, father!" said Franz, with a kind of sympathetic admiration.