"Well, we can only try," said Max; "at least, if we don't get to Olè's, we shall have had a merry sleigh ride."
He shook the reins, and the impatient horses darted off; but, my stars! they had taken the wrong road! Deeper grew the wood; the roughness of the path momentarily increased; the trees became so thick that the moonlight no longer penetrated them, and Max at length stopped his horses once more, and gazed around him in bewilderment.
"Potstausend!" exclaimed the Burgomaster; "where has the boy taken us? I tell you what, mein sonne, thou hadst best turn back, for we shall never get to Olè's to-night."
"And thy sister will take her death of cold!" cried the Frau Von Geirstein, while Walther looked anxiously at the fair Matilda, who only smiled up at him, and drew her fur-lined hood more closely about her face.
Just as they were about to turn back, they heard a sound of sleigh-bells behind, and presently a small sleigh approached them, drawn by a spirited horse.
Max, without more ado, hailed the stranger, and begged him to set them, if he could, on the road to Olè's.
The new comer bowed courteously to the ladies, and replied, "I shall be most happy to direct you thither, my respectable friends. In short, then, you follow the road before you for a time, then turn to your right; next, pursue your way in a southeast direction for a mile; next, turn toward the northwest, and then——"
"What, sir!" interrupted Max, "do you suppose we can go to all points of the compass at once? What do you mean by your northwest and southeast?"
"Potstausend! is the fellow making fun of us?" exclaimed the Burgomaster.
"Surely the Herr Von Geirstein cannot suppose I would be guilty of so great an impertinence!" exclaimed the stranger. "It is true, the road is somewhat obscure; may I not also have the pleasure of driving you to Olè's?"