The forester was in full dress to-day, and really looked well. His hair and beard were carefully arranged, and great pains had been bestowed upon his hunting-suit; nor did he seem to have forgotten the demeanor required in presence of his former master, for, with a respectful bow, he paused at the door until the Count motioned to him to approach.
"Ah, here you are, Wolfram," he said, kindly; "I have not seen you for a long time. Is all going well with you?"
"Pretty well, Herr Count," the forester replied, standing as straight and stiff as a ramrod. "I earn my wages, and the late Count was satisfied with me. I never have a chance to leave the forest year out and year in, but we get used to that and don't mind the loneliness."
"You were married, I think; is your wife still living?"
"No; she died five years ago, God rest her soul, and we never had any children. Some people advised me to marry again, but I didn't want to. Once is enough for me."
"Was your marriage not a happy one, then?" asked Steinrück, with a fleeting smile at the forester's last remark.
"That depends on one's way of looking at things," the forester replied, indifferently. "We got along pretty well together; to be sure, we quarrelled every day, but that's to be expected; and then if Michael interfered we both fell upon him and made up with each other."
The Count suddenly lifted his head. "Whom did you fall upon?"
"Eh?--yes, that was stupid," Wolfram muttered in confusion.
"Do you mean the boy who was given in charge to you?"