Gabrielle did not see these things; her mind was too intently occupied by the shore they were nearing; by the expectation of embracing her father; and by heartfelt satisfaction to exchange the miseries of the dingy little cabin for the comforts and confidence experienced on terra firma, to observe either the eyes or noses of those who were conducting her there.
"What is the name of this village, Herr?" asked Ernestine, as the boat ran alongside a little jetty built of large rough stones.
"I do not know, madam," replied Bandolo, adjusting his barnacles, and gazing intently at the half-dozen of red-tiled cottages occupied by the squirrel-curriers; "do you, Bernhard?'
"Nay, not I—how should I? I never was in Danische-wald before."
"Then do you know, how far it is from this to Fredricksort?"
"Where the count awaits you—ten miles—is it not so, Bernhard?"
Bernhard growled an assent.
"Ah, if we should be too late to reach my father!" said Gabrielle, clasping her hands; "and we have been so many hours in yonder little vessel."
"What is Fredricksort?" asked Ernestine.
"A castle of vast strength, lady."