little girl; he had given her up! Perhaps his heart ached too, but he gave no sign of it; he was as hard as steel. She had always known he was a hero. But she would prove that she was worthy of him; never would a soul learn anything from her, and one day …
“If you don’t mind!” ordered the sentry almost menacingly.
“Well, come along, Violet,” urged the Rittmeister, starting from his stupefaction and taking his daughter’s arm. “Why, child, you’re looking quite pale, and just before you were as red as fire. You must have had a terrible fright.”
“He was a bit rude, wasn’t he, Papa?”
“He’s an officer on duty, Vi! How would they get on if they had to give information to everyone? I’m convinced he will report to his superiors. They will make inquiries about me, and one of the gentlemen will then pay me a visit.… That’s how it is in the Army, everything has to go according to regulation.”
“But he was really nasty to you!”
“Well, a young lieutenant! Probably gets a bit too big for his boots sometimes. He’s only rude because he still feels uncertain.”
“Was he really a lieutenant? He looked—so shabby.”
“The sentry addressed him as that. They’re not regular troops.”
“What did you think of him?”
“Yes, Vi, I can understand you, you’re angry with him because he was a little rude, not courteous to a lady. But as a matter of fact, I thought he made quite a smart impression. Probably a capable young officer.”
“Really, Papa? Did you also see what beautiful well-kept hands he had?”
“No, Vi, I really didn’t notice them. But I wouldn’t have let him run around so unshaven; as I said, they’re not regular troops.”
“But, Papa …” Vi would have liked to go on playing this tender game of hide-and-seek with her father, so soothing to her heavy heart. Forester Kniebusch intervened, however. He stepped out from between two junipers and greeted them.
“Kniebusch!” cried the Rittmeister. “What are you doing here? I thought you never came to this part of the forest.”
“One has to look at every place sometimes, Herr Rittmeister,” said the forester significantly. “One thinks nothing is happening, but something always is.”
“Why, were you also back there?”
“In the Black Dale? Yes, Herr Rittmeister,” announced the forester, who was burning to reveal what he knew.
“Oh,” said the Rittmeister indifferently. “See anything special?”
“Yes.” The forester knew that a piece of news imparted at once is worth nothing. “I saw you, sir, and your daughter.”
“In the Black Dale?”
“You didn’t get as far as that, sir.”
“Oh,” said Herr von Prackwitz, displeased that another should have witnessed that annoying scene, “I suppose you saw how we were stopped?”
“Yes, Herr Rittmeister, I did.”
“Did you also hear what we said?”
“No, Herr Rittmeister, I was too far away.” There was a short anxious pause. “I was between the sentry and the other men.”
“So there were others there?” asked the Rittmeister with as much indifference as possible. “How many?”
“Thirty, Herr Rittmeister.”
“Is that so? I thought there were more. Perhaps you didn’t see them all.”
“But I was there from the beginning; I heard the car. I have to know what is going on in my forest, Herr Rittmeister. I hid myself from the beginning. Thirty men, including Lieutenant Fritz.”
“The lieutenant’s name is Fritz?” cried the Rittmeister in surprise.
“Yes,” said the forester, turning scarlet at the young Fraulein’s glance. “At least, that’s what the men call him,” he stammered in confusion. “That’s what I heard.”
“His men called him Fritz, Kniebusch?” asked the Rittmeister incredulously.
“No, no,” the forester hastened to say. “The men said Herr Lieutenant, but there was another one there— perhaps he was a lieutenant, too—who said Fritz.”
“I see,” said the Rittmeister, satisfied. “It would have been preposterous if the men had called their officer Fritz. That sort of thing doesn’t exist even among irregular troops.”
“No.” The forester corrected himself. “It was probably the other lieutenant, a very fat man.”
“They had a car, too?”
“Yes, Herr Rittmeister.” The forester was glad to get away from the dangerous topic—even at the cost of his secret. “A truck, loaded right up.”
“Did you see it? What was it carrying?”
The forester looked around; but when he saw only high and scattered trees, where no eavesdropper could be hiding, he said very quietly: “Weapons, Herr Rittmeister! Guns, ammunition boxes, hand grenades. Two light machine guns, three heavy ones.… They’re burying it all.”
The Rittmeister knew everything he wanted to know. He drew himself up more stiffly. “Listen, forester,” he said solemnly. “I hope you are aware that it will cost you your life if you talk about what you know. It is to the interest of the State that complete silence should be preserved as to what is happening here. If the Entente Commission hears of it, you will be better off if you have seen nothing! You are much too inquisitive, Kniebusch. As soon as you saw they were soldiers, you should have known the thing was in order—you shouldn’t have hidden in the bushes. Understand?”
“Yes, Herr Rittmeister,” said the forester plaintively.
“You had better forget everything, Kniebusch. If you ever think of it, you must say to yourself: ‘It was just a dream—it’s not true.’ Understand?”
“Yes, Herr Rittmeister.”
“And one more thing, Kniebusch. One doesn’t discuss such affairs of State before women—even if it is your own daughter! Remember that in future!”
“Yes, Herr Rittmeister.”
Herr von Prackwitz had avenged himself. In accordance with an old precept he had passed on the kick received, and could now walk on contentedly at his daughter’s side.
“How is your prisoner Baumer getting on?” he asked affably.
“Oh, Herr Rittmeister, the scoundrel!” A deep sigh rent the forester’s breast. Apparently Baumer had at last recovered consciousness, and they were treating him like a prince. They had taken him to the clinic in Frankfurt, and in a few days the forester was to confront him at his bedside.…” And I know what will happen then, Herr Rittmeister. I shan’t be allowed to speak about all the crimes he’s committed, but he’ll lie that I half killed him, although I can point out the stone in the forest on which he fell. But they won’t listen to me. The gendarme officer says they are getting out a summons against me for bodily assault or abuse of official powers. And in the end I’ll go to prison, although I’m seventy, and the poacher Baumer—”
“Yes, yes, Kniebusch,” said the Rittmeister, very pleased that others also had their troubles, “that is just how the world is today, but you don’t understand it. We were victorious throughout the whole war and now we are the defeated. And you have been honest your whole life and are now going to prison. It’s all quite normal—take me, for instance. My father-in-law …” And for the remainder of the journey, the Rittmeister spoke consoling words to the old forester.
X
It was dark when Herr von Prackwitz arrived home with his daughter, but in spite of that his wife had not yet returned from the Manor. Vi went up to her room, while the Rittmeister paced angrily up and down. He had returned from the forest in the best of moods. He had caught a glimpse of secret military operations which pointed to the coming overthrow of the present hated Government, and even if he was going to exercise discretion in all
