One note of the jewelled horn brought the Wilder Jäger to her presence.
As she had failed before, he had less fear of her success this time, and he was proportionately less subservient and submissive.
“So you think you are come to give me my dismissal, beautiful Baroness? But you have no reason to repulse me so—be assured I mean it well with you; and though there is no limit to my power over you, I shall never treat you otherwise than with honour,” he said, with a little scornful laugh which suited his fine features exactly, and made him look handsomer than before. And as he spoke so, his haughty tone, not unmixed with warmth and admiration, thrilled her with the notion that, after all, if it were not for her troth plighted to the Baron, it would not be so very dreadful to owe obedience to one who knew how to command so gracefully.
But it was only for a moment. The weakness passed, she drew herself up with dignity, and, retreating against the support of the friendly ilex, said,—
“Silence! and remember your promise to leave me at peace till the fatal month is out. I cannot listen to you. And now for your name——”
The Cobbold bowed, with a half-mocking, half-respectful inclination, as if forcing himself to listen out of courtesy, but secure that she would not guess right.
“Wheat! Oats! Maize!” said the Baroness, with a positive air.
The Cobbold stared comically, as if doubting whether she was in earnest; and at last, as if to relieve her out of politeness, he replied,—
“Oh, dear no, that’s not at all like it!”
The Baroness hung her head in despair; then, drawing herself up again, she said,—