"War!" he murmured.
Gretchen's heart sank; there was joy in his voice.
"Go on, grandmother," she whispered.
"Shall I live?" asked the vintner, whose belief in prescience till this hour had been of a negative quality.
"There is nothing here save death in old age, vintner." Her gnarled hand seized his in a vise. "Do you mean well by my girl?"
"Grandmother!" Gretchen remonstrated.
"Silence!"
The vintner withdrew his hand slowly.
"Is this the hand of a liar and a cheat? Is it the hand of a dishonest man?"
"There is no dishonesty there; but there are lines I do not understand. Oh, I can not see everything; it is like seeing people in a mist. They pass instantly and disappear. But I repeat, do you mean well by my girl?"