"Fritz, I have good news for you; I am going to take you to Nideck, two leagues from this place. You know Nideck, the finest baronial castle in the country, a grand monument of the glory of our forefathers?"
Now I had not seen Sperver, who was my foster-father, for sixteen years; he had grown a full beard in that time, a huge fox-skin cap covered his head, and he was holding his lantern close under my nose. It was, therefore, only natural that I should answer—
"In the first place let us do things in order. Tell me who you are."
"Who I am? What! don't you remember Gideon Sperver, the Schwartzwald huntsman? You would not be so ungrateful, would you? Was it not I who taught you to set a trap, to lay wait for the foxes along the skirts of the woods, to start the dogs after the wild birds? Do you remember me now? Look at my left ear, with a frost-bite."
"Now I know you; that left ear of yours has done it; Shake hands."
Sperver, passing the back of his hand across his eyes, went on—
"You know Nideck?"
"Of course I do—by reputation; what have you to do there?"
"I am the count's chief huntsman."
"And who has sent you?"