"Petrowitsch was in the habit of walking about with a knife in his hand, and pruning the superfluous branches off the trees; and one day the farm servant informed against him for destroying the trees. So he caused a whole avenue of new cherry trees to be planted at his own expense, and for the last six years he has pulled the unripe fruit, that the trees might not be injured by thieves, and they have made a fine growth; but he feels no interest in any man. See! there goes Lenz—his only brother's son, and he has never got from him as much as would go on the point of a needle."
"So that is Lenz? A good looking youth—an agreeable countenance—just what I had imagined him to be."
"Oh yes!—he is a very worthy young man, only rather too soft hearted. When he is passing along there, I know that two eyes from a new house are watching him, and would fain allure him in; and those eyes are Bertha's."
"So they understand each other, do they?" said the Techniker, his white forehead colouring to the roots of his hair.
"No; I never said anything of the kind. I dare say she would be very glad to marry him, for he has a nice property, and she has nothing but some fine Leghorn hats, and stockings in holes."
The landlord's daughter, or Lion-Annele, as she was called, inwardly rejoiced. "So! I have put salt enough in his soup!" And this pleasant thought restored her good humour.
The Techniker said that he was going out to take another walk.
"Where are you going?"
"Up yonder, towards the Spannreute."
"It is a very fine view from there, but as steep as the side of a house."