The freshness of the morning was over, and the heat of a midday sun in June brooded over the village, which lay about half-an-hour's distance from the Schloss, where Count Arnau and Eugen Reinert were at present guests. The stage coach, which had passed through an hour ago, had put down travellers, an old gentleman and a young girl. The narrow, close, room of the inn seemed oppressive to both alike; the old man sat in the little garden behind the house, whilst his companion had sauntered to the front, and was now thoughtfully contemplating the scene around her.
The village lay almost as still as death, the people were nearly all at work in the fields. No one was to be seen, save a group of children, playing in the broad village street, untroubled by the hot sunshine.
Suddenly the distant rumble of a carriage was heard, and a moment after an elegant conveyance came in sight. The groom sat behind, and a gentleman himself managed the spirited black horses;--there was no doubt that he saw the children, but he seemed to imagine that they must also see him, and would move out of the way in time, for he drove straight through the village at the sharpest pace, though in such a broad street, it would have been quite easy to have turned out of the way. The little group of children flew right and left as he approached; only one, a little fellow, perhaps two years old, sat still, quite unconscious of his danger, and when the frightened children at last roused him by their cries, the carriage was already almost upon him. He now, at last, attempted to get up, but stunned, and unaccustomed to run, he stumbled at the first step, and fell down right in front of the horses. The driver of the carriage, only perceiving the child at that instant, drew them up with all his strength, but they were in full trot, and very spirited animals, so that he did not succeed in stopping them at once, and the boy seemed lost. Then the young girl suddenly flew towards the child, and, quick as lightning, tore him away almost from under the hoofs of the horses, took him in her arms and sprang aside. An instant later would have been fatal to him! A moment after the driver had succeeded in pulling up the fiery animals, but their hoofs stamped the place where the child lay a few seconds since, and he, quiet enough from fright in the moment of danger, now that he found himself safe, burst into a loud scream.
Count Arnau gave the reins to his groom, sprang from the carriage, and approached the two.
"Is any one hurt?" asked he, hastily.
"I am not, but the child--"
Without answering a word, Hermann took the little one from her arms, felt and examined him rather roughly, but very thoroughly, on all sides, and soon convinced himself that he was not the least injured.
"It is nothing," said he calmly. "He was only frightened; come, cry-baby, you are all right enough!"
So saying, he carelessly put down the child, who, intimidated by the rough tone, was now silent and looked up at him anxiously with great eyes, still full of tears. The Count then turned politely to the young girl who had saved him.
"You showed great courage, mein Fräulein. It was impossible to stop the horses so quickly, and the little fellow would have been lost but for you."