Willem was just as sparing of words as Rothfuss was lavish of them; and it was a droll sight to watch the two sitting together. I think that each one considered himself the superior of the other and patronized him accordingly. Rothfuss did it with words, Ikwarte with glances. He evidently regarded Rothfuss as an old child; and Rothfuss, in turn, looked upon him as a poor awkward being who had not learned how to express himself properly. When they spoke to each other, they always screamed at the top of their voices; each only understood about half of what was said by the other, and they thought they might help matters by screaming.
Rothfuss could hardly be brought to believe that Ikwarte had not emigrated on account of his being unable to endure German oppression; but Ikwarte was without a trace of political opinion. All that he knew of the state was that one should serve it as a soldier and pay taxes. Of Ludwig, he said, "My master is a man, and a man of his word at that."
Towards his master, he had a certain feeling of implicit and dutiful obedience; he was fond of saying, "Let everything be well grounded."
Rothfuss consoled him with the words: "Don't mind it, if they try to tease and worry you here. If you plant a strange tree in the forest, the stags will rub their horns against it and tear the bark, but the tree is not harmed, after all."
Rothfuss was quite beside himself with laughter when Ikwarte asked him what bodily infirmity had prevented my two servants, who had not been soldiers, from entering the army. He could not understand that we still drew lots in our neighborhood.
Ludwig had gone to the capital to make various arrangements for the family meeting, and I remained at home working in the forest with Carl and Ikwarte, whose clever ways and even temper greatly pleased me.
CHAPTER IX.
The schoolmaster's wife and Martella had decorated our steps and the doorway with flowers and garlands, to the great delight of all of us, and Ludwig in particular. But on the second day, Ludwig said to Rothfuss:
"Take down the wreaths; nothing is uglier than to let flowers hang until they wilt."
"He is right," said Rothfuss, smiling. "My mother always said that Sunday clothes should not be worn on week days. Ludwig's mother had good sense, and so had mine."