"But only look on, dear lady!" said the latter, imploringly.
"Don't tutor me," cried Lenore.
The drilling-ground was at the edge of the wood. The forester had contrived, through ancient recollections, and after manifold consultations with the baron, to bring his men into good order; and Karl led his squadron with an ardor that might well make amends for lack of skill. For a long time they had marched, countermarched, performed various evolutions, and fired at a mark. The mock artillery echoed cheerfully through the forest. Lenore had looked on from a distance, but at last she could not resist the pleasure of taking part in the cavalry exercise, and, trotting on to their head, she whispered to Karl, "Just for a minute or two."
"What if Mr. Wohlfart see you?" whispered Karl, in reply.
"He will not see," was Lenore's laughing answer, as she took her place in the ranks.
The youths looked in amazement at the slender figure which trotted at their side. Owing to the admiration she excited, many performed their parts ill, and Karl had much fault to find.
"The young lady does it best," cried a Neudorf man during a pause, and all took off their hats and cheered her loudly.
Lenore bowed low, and made her pony curvet gayly. But her amusement was soon interrupted, for up came Anton. "It is really too bad," whispered he, angry in good earnest. "You expose yourself to familiar observations, which are not ill meant, but which would still offend you. This is no place for the display of your horsemanship."
"You grudge me every pleasure," replied Lenore, much aggrieved, and rode away.
When she found herself alone, she let her pony prance and caracole under a great pear-tree, and inwardly chafed against Anton. "How rudely he spoke to me!" thought she. "My father is right; he is very prosaic. When I saw him first, I was on this pony too, but then I pleased him better; we were both children then, but his manner was more respectful than now." The thought flashed across her mind how bright, fair, and pleasant her life was then, and how bitter now; and while she dreamed over the contrast, she let the pony cut caper after caper.