“Ah!” she said, with a bright smile, “it is Mr. Zacharias Seiler!”
The old man approached her—he tried to speak—but all he could do was to stammer a few unintelligible words, just like a very young man—his embarrassment was so great that he completely disconcerted the young girl. At last he managed to say:
“Where are you going through the forest at this hour, my dear child?”
She stretched out her hand and showed him, way at the end of the valley, a forester’s house.
“I am returning to my father’s house, the Corporal Yeri Foerster. You know him, without doubt, Monsieur le Juge.”
“What, are you our brave Yeri’s daughter? Ah, do I know him? A very worthy man. Then you are little Charlotte of whom he has often spoken to me when he came with his official reports?”
“Yes, Monsieur; I have just come from the town and am returning home.”
“That is a very pretty bunch of Alpine berries you have,’” exclaimed the old man.
She detached the bouquet from her belt and tendered it to him.
“If it would please you, Monsieur Seiler.”