“I have it this time, Heinrich!” she said.
And the Baron listened anxiously, but trusted himself never to speak.
“Said you not that the Wilder Jäger’s domain was entirely among the tall dark trees?”
“So it seemed to me it was,” responded her husband.
“But I certainly discerned through the forest patches of ripe golden grain. Saw you them not too?”
“The first time I rode too fast to notice them, but I do think on this last journey I saw such here and there by the wayside.”
“No doubt,” continued the lady, “it is hence he takes his name; these small patches of golden grain are more worth than all the vast forests. Order the horses, for I have guessed his name! It came to my mind just now, as I looked over the harvest-fields stretched out yonder.
“Wheat, Oats, Maize—that will be his name!”
The Baron knew her counsel had often proved right when he least expected, and even disputed it, and though he was now too desponding to expect success, he was likewise least inclined to dispute her word. So he ordered the horses round, for it was yet early morning, and they rode to the ilex grove.
The Baroness, whose hope seemed to rise as she got nearer the goal of the journey, was full of spirit and cheerfulness, and, finding it impossible to work up the Baron to the same expectation as herself, rode on to accomplish her work ere he arrived.