“Then I am sure that noble cannot be the Count Furstenburg,” said Meta: “he spoke so gently and looked so kindly at us.”
Scarcely had they entered their cottage than they heard horses’ hoofs approaching it. Karl ran out to see who it was, while Meta was preparing the supper.
“Oh, Meta!” exclaimed Karl, running back, “it is that dreadful man, Johann Herder, our grandfather’s great enemy! His coming bodes us no good.”
They consulted whether they should bolt the door, but Meta advised that they should show no alarm; and as Herder could easily break open the door, it would be useless to try and keep him out.
In another minute Herder entered the cottage. He cast a frowning glance around him. “Where is your grandfather?” he asked.
“I am afraid, sir, he is in prison,” answered Meta.
“Why is he there?” he asked again.
“Karl says, because he was listening to a preacher of the gospel,” answered Meta.
“He was assisting in creating a disturbance rather,” observed Herder.
“I am sure grandfather is not the man to do that,” exclaimed Karl. “I was with him, and he was as quiet as any man could be.”