‘Small credit for that!’ exclaimed Berbel. ‘You have done me many a good turn in twenty years, and my ladies too, and you have never got much by it, that I can see—more praise to you!’
‘Nonsense!’ ejaculated Wastei, who was visibly affected by the speech. ‘God greet you, Frau Berbel!’ he added, turning away abruptly and leaving her standing alone in the court.
Berbel looked after him for a few seconds, and there was an unusually tender expression in her sharp eyes, as she watched his retreating figure. He had been a wild fellow in his day, a daring poacher, an intrepid drinker of fiery cherry spirits, always the first in a fight and the last out of it, the terror of the head forester and his men, the object of old Greifenstein’s inveterate hatred, the admiration of the village maidens for twenty miles around, the central figure in a hundred adventures and hairbreadth escapes of all kinds, and yet, as though he were miraculously preserved from harm, he had always managed to keep out of trouble, and though many a time suspected of making free with the game, yet never convicted, nor even brought to a trial. It had been impossible to catch him and impossible to prove anything against him. At last the head forester, who had a secret reverence for his extraordinary powers of endurance and unrivalled skill in woodcraft, had made terms with him and employed him as a sort of supernumerary upon the government establishment. From that day, Wastei, who would have waged war to the death with all regular foresters, had surrendered at discretion to the kindness shown him, and had given up poaching for ever. Berbel could not help liking him, and being grateful to him for many a good turn he had done the poor ladies at Sigmundskron. She had often distrusted him at first, but after twenty years’ acquaintance and friendship she owned, as she watched him stride away, that he had a heart of gold, as he had said of her but a few moments earlier.
It seemed as though circumstances pointed clearly to the course she had intended to pursue, for since Wastei had brought her the coat it was no longer possible to put off the execution of her purpose. She determined to obtain an interview with Hilda as soon as possible and to place both the garment and the letter in her hands. The reasoning she followed in selecting Hilda for her confidence has been sufficiently explained already. The intimacy existing between the two made such a plan seem most natural to her, Hilda’s strong and sensible nature made it safe, the difficulty of the mission, so far as Greif was concerned, made it appear wisest to leave the matter to his wife’s wisdom and tact. Berbel went upstairs with her bundle under her arm.
Though Hilda had not risen quite so early as her old servant, she was by this time dressed and ready for the morning walk Greif liked so much in the summer time. Berbel met them both in one of the passages, walking quickly, arm in arm, talking and laughing happily as they went. Berbel would have let them pass, seeing that Hilda was not alone, had not the latter stopped and asked a question.
‘What have you got there, Berbel?’ she inquired, looking at the bundle.
‘It is a very important matter,’ answered Berbel. ‘And if you could spare me a few minutes—’
‘Is it really important?’ asked Hilda, leaning on her husband’s arm.
‘Very. And if you could spare the time—’ Berbel looked at Greif.
‘Very well,’ said the latter. ‘I have plenty to do, dear. Finish your business with Berbel and meet me on the tower—there is a man waiting for me, I believe.’