"It was long enough discussed at dinner. Your attention seems to have been wandering."
It was the first time that he had ever spoken to me in an unfriendly tone, and my countenance probably expressed the surprise that I felt, for he quickly added:
"I did not mean to wound you; and besides it was no fault of yours."
We had reached a stubble-field, and the shooting began. Herr von Zehren posted me on the left wing, while he kept upon the right; thus I was separated from him and did not once come near him during the rest of the day. This also had never before occurred. He had hitherto always kept me by him, and was delighted when, as often happened, more game fell to our two guns than to those of all the rest. My shooting was this day poor enough. The happiness which Constance's unexpected friendliness had given me, was embittered by her father's unexpected unkindness. The birds which my dog Caro put up--Herr von Zehren had given me one of his best dogs--flew off untouched while I was pondering over the unhappy relations between father and daughter, and how I could not show my affection for the one without offending the other, and what was to become of my favorite scheme of reconciling the two.
I was quite lost in these melancholy reflections when Herr von Granow joined me. It was already growing dusk, and the day's sport was virtually over, only now and then we heard a distant shot among the bushes of the heath. No order was now kept, and I soon found myself alone with the little man as we ascended a slight hill.
"What has happened between you and the old man?" he asked, hanging his gun across his shoulders and coming to my side.
"What do you mean?" I inquired.
"Well, it struck me in that light, and not me only; the others noticed it too. I can assure you that he looked once or twice across the table at you as if he would eat you."
"I have done nothing to offend him," I said.
"That I can well believe," continued the little man. "And this afternoon he scarcely spoke a word with you."