CHAPTER VII.
THE CIVILITIES OF A LANDLORD'S PRETTY DAUGHTER.
A young man was seated alone at a well covered table in the large inn of the "Lion," and eating with that good appetite which is sure to fall to the share of a youth of twenty, after having roamed for a whole day through the valley and over the hills. Sometimes he cast an observant glance at the silver knives and forks: they are of the good old fashioned sort, when people did not grudge a little solid silver, though it brought no interest for their money. The young man—it is the Techniker, with whom we were in company yesterday at the Doctor's—lights a cigar, and smooths his thick light-brown beard with a small pocket brush; his face has strong lines, and his light brown hair, curls round a well-developed prominent forehead; his blue eyes are deep set, and have an expression of hearty cordiality; and his cheeks are full and fresh coloured.
A cool evening breeze blows in through the open oriel window, quickly dispersing the clouds of tobacco smoke.
"So you are smoking already, Herr Starr?—I suppose you don't want anything more to eat?" said a neatly dressed girl who entered the room at that moment. She wore a white apron and an embroidered stomacher; her figure was slender, flexible, and agile; her face full and oval, and her complexion bright; her brown fawnlike eyes had a shrewd expression; and three massive brown glossy plaits formed a crown on her head. It was Annele, the landlord's daughter.
The girl went on in a pleasant flow of words, saying—"You must make the best of it. We had no idea that you would dine at so late an hour."
"Everything is as good as possible. Sit down beside me for a few minutes, sister-in-law."
"I will, the moment I have cleared away everything. I cannot sit down in peace when everything is in such disorder."
"Yes, with you, everything must be as neat and tidy as yourself."