"You must go out of sight, then, and keep quite still. The little creatures know me, but so many gentlemen would terrify them."
Sabine then went out a few steps, scattered the crumbs on the gravel, and clapped her hands. A loud chirping instantly succeeded, and numbers of birds shot down, hopping boldly about, and picking up the crumbs close to her feet. They were not a very distinguished company—finches, linnets, and a whole nation of sparrows. Sabine gently stepped back to the door, and said, "Can you see any difference among these sparrows? They have, I assure you, individualities of dress and character. Several of them are personal acquaintances of mine." She pointed to a large sparrow with a black head and a bright brown back. "Do you see that stout gentleman?"
"He is the largest of them all," said Anton, with delight.
"He is my oldest acquaintance, and it is my dinners that have made him so fat. He moves about among the others like a rich banker. Only hear him! His very chirp has in it something aristocratic and supercilious. He looks upon this crumb-scattering as a duty society owes him, and determines generously to leave for the others all he can not eat up himself. But I think I see a tuft on his little breast."
"A loose feather?" whispered Specht.
"Yes," continued Sabine; "I much fear his wife has pulled it out; for, important as he seems, he is under petticoat government. That gray little lady yonder, the lightest of them all, is his wife. Now look, they are going to quarrel." And a great contest began for an especially large crumb, in which all the birds manifested a strong dislike to the banker, and the wife came off victorious.
"And now, do look!" cried Sabine, joyfully; "here comes my little one—my pet;" and down plumped a young sparrow, with helpless outspread wings, and fluttered up to the maternal bird, who hacked the large crumb into little bits, and put them into its wide-opened beak, while the father hopped up and down, at a little distance, looking with a certain misgiving at his energetic better half.
"What a pretty sight!" cried Anton.
"Is it not?" said Sabine. "Even these little creatures have characters and a family life."
But the scene was suddenly changed; a quick step came round the hot-house; the birds flew away, and the mother called piteously to her child to follow. But the little thing, heavy and stupefied with all it had eaten, could not so quickly lift its weak wings. A cut from Fink's riding-whip caught him, and sent its little body dead among the flowers. An angry exclamation arose, and all faces looked darkly on the murderer. As for Sabine, she went to the bed, picked up the bird, kissed its little head, and said, in a broken voice, "It is dead." Then she put it down on the bench near the door, and covered it with her handkerchief.