But to the two horsemen on the knoll this spiritual ditty was unheard. They were, indeed, in some concern of mind, scanning every fold of the subjacent forest, and betraying both anger and dismay in their impatient gestures.
“I do not see him, Kuno,” said the first huntsman, “nowhere—not a trace, not a hair of the mare’s tail! No, sir, he’s off; broke cover and got away. Why, for twopence I would hunt him with the dogs!”
“Mayhap, he’s gone home,” said Kuno, but without conviction.
“Home!” sneered the other. “I give him twelve days to get home. No, it’s begun again; it’s as it was three years ago, before he married; a disgrace! Hereditary prince, hereditary fool! There goes the government over the borders on a grey mare. What’s that? No, nothing—no, I tell you, on my word, I set more store by a good gelding or an English dog. That for your Otto!”
“He’s not my Otto,” growled Kuno.
“Then I don’t know whose he is,” was the retort.
“You would put your hand in the fire for him to-morrow,” said Kuno, facing round.
“Me!” cried the huntsman. “I would see him hanged! I’m a Grünewald patriot—enrolled, and have my medal, too; and I would help a prince! I’m for liberty and Gondremark.”
“Well, it’s all one,” said Kuno. “If anybody said what you said, you would have his blood, and you know it.”