"Fräulein von Thurgau had the kindness to make me acquainted with the stern dame," said Wolfgang. "She did indeed receive us very ungraciously on the threshold of her palace, with a furious storm, and I was not allowed the privilege of a personal introduction."
"Take care,--you might have to pay dearly for the favour!" exclaimed Erna, irritated by his sarcasm. Elmhorst's mocking smile was certainly provoking.
"Fräulein von Thurgau, you must not expect from me any consideration for mountain-sprites. I am here for the express purpose of waging war against them. The industries of the nineteenth century have nothing in common with the fear of ghosts. Pray do not look so indignant. Our railway is not going over the Wolkenstein, and your mountain-sprite will remain seated upon her throne undisturbed. Of course she cannot but behold thence how we take possession of her realm and girdle it with our chains. But I have not the remotest intention of interfering with your faith. At your age it is quite comprehensible."
He could not have irritated his youthful antagonist more deeply than by these words, which so distinctly assigned her a place among children. They were the most insulting that could be addressed to the girl of sixteen, and they had their effect. Erna stood erect, as angry and determined as if she herself had been threatened with fetters; her eyes flashed as she exclaimed, with all the wayward defiance of a child, "I wish the mountain-sprite would descend upon her wings of storm from the Wolkenstein and show you her face,--you would not ask to see it again!"
With this she turned and flew, rather than ran, across the meadow, with Griff after her. The slender figure, its curls unbound again to-day, vanished in a few minutes within the house. Wolfgang paused and looked after her; the sarcastic smile still hovered upon his lips, but there was a sharp tone in his voice.
"What is Baron Thurgau thinking of, to let his daughter grow up so? She would be quite impossible in civilized surroundings; she is barely tolerable in this mountain wilderness."
"Yes, she has grown up wild and free as an Alpine rose," said Benno, whose eyes were still fixed upon the door behind which Erna had disappeared. Elmhorst turned suddenly and looked keenly at his friend.
"You are actually poetical! Are you touched there?"
"I?" asked Benno, surprised, almost dismayed. "What are you thinking of?"
"I only thought it strange to have you season your speech with imagery,--it is not your way. Moreover, your 'Alpine rose' is an extremely wayward, spoiled child; you will have to educate her first."