We took the forest road. Mixed with the sound of hoofs and wheels, I could hear the footsteps of the running torchmen: the flickering light shot in between the tree-boles, disturbing the wood creatures, and, as we went, all of a sudden, the jägers running with us broke out in a chorus of what seemed lamentation mixed with curses.
Von der Goltz sprang up on the seat and looked ahead.
"A white hare is running before us," said he. "That is bad for Count Carl von Lichtenberg."
My father bowed slightly, as if to a half-heard remark.
A white hare, it seems, was the sign of death in the house of Lichtenberg.
Turning a bend in the road, the carriage drew up.
We waited for a moment till the sound behind told us that the second carriage had also stopped. Then we alighted.
"Joubert," said my father, handing him a packet, "you will stay here with the dog. Open this packet should anything befall me. Patrick, you will come with me."
"Dieu vous garde!" said Joubert. And, following the others, we entered the forest.