A horse's hoof rung on the pavement. Fink's bay was led out.
"Where is he going?" hurriedly asked Lenore.
"I do not know," replied Anton; "he has been a great deal out of late; I see nothing of him the whole day long."
"What is he doing here with us?" said Lenore; "this unhappy house is no place for him."
"If he would only be careful," said the forester. "The Tarow people are mad at him; they have sworn to send a bullet after him, and he always rides alone, and late at night."
"It is in vain to warn him," added Anton. "Do be rational for once, Fritz," cried he, as his friend came out; "do not go riding alone, or, at least, not through the Tarow estate."
Fink shrugged his shoulders. "Ah! so our Fräulein is here! It is so long since we have had the pleasure of seeing you, that our time has hung rather heavy on our hands."
"Listen to the advice of your friends," replied Lenore, anxiously, "and beware of dangerous men."
"Why?" returned Fink; "there is no straightforward danger to apprehend; and in times like these, there is no guarding against every stupid devil who may lurk behind a tree; that would be taking too much trouble."
"If not for your own sake, think of the anxiety of your friends," implored Lenore.