"Do you suppose we should be allowed to go, Gretchen, if our intention was suspected? If you are afraid that you cannot keep our departure secret, tell me so frankly, and I will go alone, without your knowledge."
"Oh, no, Ernestine, I will not let you go out into the world alone. What are all my resolutions and protestations worth, if I fail you at the outset? But there is one person, Ernestine, to whom I owe a certain obedience, my guardian! I am not of age, as you are. I cannot do just as I please. I must ask him whether I may go with you--but I will answer for his secrecy. He shall promise me, before I confide in him, that he will not betray my confidence,--and he always keeps his promises."
Ernestine considered for a moment. "Yes, I see this cannot be avoided. I rely upon you. Johannes and his mother are going to drive into town together in a few days to prepare a room for us in their house. When they return in the evening, they must not find us here."
"I cannot help feeling," said Gretchen, "as if I were guilty of treachery towards all these kind people. I never deceived any one in my life before; I feel like a criminal."
"We will not deceive them, only spare them a parting scene that would be painful to us all,--we will not impose upon them the necessity of preventing what in their hearts they may think best for us. When we are once away, I will write and explain to them what we have done, and they will understand me."
"Ernestine, I will pray God to give you more love and less pride. My only hope is that you will not long be able to live without the faithful friend who loves you so devotedly."
Ernestine looked out of the carriage-window without a word. The fields were bare and deserted, but the spiders' webs, that lay like nets upon the stubble, glistened in the sunlight. Here and there the peasants were burning underbrush, and the red flames darted with a merry crackle through the thick white smoke that the autumn breeze kept lying low upon the ground. The cattle were gleaning a scanty meal from the shorn pastures,--they raised their heads to look after the carriage as it passed, or to rub their necks against some dried old stump of a tree. In the distance, a sportsman was making his toilsome way through the deep furrows of a ploughed field, while his dog busied himself among the hedges until he started a covey of birds, and the fatal crack of the gun was heard. A wagon, laden high with full wine-casks, passed along the road,--the boy that was driving had a bunch of withered asters in his hat, and cracked his whip gaily at sight of Gretchen's lovely face, while the little dog perched on the top of the load barked angrily. "Every one is making ready for winter," said Gretchen. "How much labour meat and drink cost!"
The carriage turned towards the village, and Ernestine called to the coachman to stop at the school-house,--"I must see the Leonhardts once more." As they reached the low-roofed house, one of the windows was opened, and Frau Brigitta looked out. "Good-morning, Frau Leonhardt," cried Ernestine from the carriage.
"My dear Fräulein Ernestine, I can hardly trust my eyes!" And out she came to the carriage-door. "Come in, come in, both of you,--I will bring Bernhard--he is with Käthchen in the garden. But Walter is in the house. He is so happy with the things you have sent him! He studies night and day!" Thus the old woman ran on, as she assisted her guests to alight.
"I think," said Ernestine, "that I should like to go into the garden to Father Leonhardt."