“Do not be alarmed, my young friends,” said the gentleman. “I wish to serve you rather than to do you any harm. What is that book you are reading from, little maiden?”
“The Bible, sir, God’s word,” answered Meta, without hesitation.
“A very blessed book, and a very blessed message it contains,” observed the gentleman. “But how came you young foresters to possess it, and to learn to read it?”
“I learned at Herr Gellet’s school,” answered Meta, “and a good man who came by this way, sold us the book at a small price. It is worth ten times the sum we gave, I am sure of that.”
“And where do you live?” asked the gentleman.
Meta told him.
“And is your grandfather sick, that he is not with you?” he inquired.
“Alas! he has been cast into prison for listening to a preacher of God’s word,” said Meta, “and we know not what they are going to do with him, whether they will burn him, as they have done others, or keep him shut up.”
The nobleman, for such by his appearance they supposed him to be, continued looking with great interest at Meta, while she was speaking. Having made further inquiries about the old woodcutter, he joined several of his companions who had been standing all the time at a little distance, scarcely perceived till now by Meta and Karl. One of them had been holding his horse, which he mounted, and rode away, conversing with him through the forest.
Karl having made up his fagots, proceeded homewards, talking with Meta as they went, about the interview with the nobleman, and wondering who he could be. “I wonder whether he is the Count Furstenburg, whose castle is, I know, some short distance off, though I have never been up to it. I have several times seen the tops of the towers over the trees. Yet whenever I have heard his name mentioned he has been spoken of as a fierce, cruel lord, tyrannical both to his dependants and even to those of his own family. I know I have heard of all sorts of bad things about him, but grandfather never likes to speak of him.”