The young lady was evidently annoyed to find herself farther from her destination than she had supposed. Then her glance fell on Herr von Eschenhagen, who, coming from the other direction, had just reached the bend in the road.
"I beg pardon, sir, but is the road passable?"
He did not answer at once for he was dumb with admiration at the wonderful and graceful leap which she had just made. She had gone through the air like a feather, and landed on the only dry spot on the whole road.
"Don't you hear me?" she repeated, impatiently. "Do you know whether the road is passable or not?"
"I—I am on the road now," he answered, rather staggered by the sharp, dictatorial tone.
"I can see that for myself. But I have no high boots like you. What I want to know is whether the road is as muddy as this all the way or not? Are there any dry places? Great heavens! can't you answer?"
"I—I believe you will find it dry after you get past this bend here."
"Very well, then, I will venture. So you can turn back, driver, and leave my luggage at the post-office opposite the market-place, and I'll send for it. Wait. Hand me down that black satchel, and I'll take it with me."
"But it's too heavy for you to carry, Fräulein, and I can't leave my horses to take it for you," objected the coachman.
"Well, then, give it to that gentleman yonder. It's not very far to our garden gate. Will you please take that black leather satchel, sir—the one on the back seat with the heavy straps. Can't you hurry?"