seat.”
“Who’s coming?” asked Kniebusch, confused.
“You’re not to be such a chatterer, Herr Kniebusch,” declared the servant with serious disapproval. “A man doesn’t chatter—above all, with women.”
“I haven’t said anything at all,” the forester maintained.
“Naturally she has to wash her face first, because she’s been crying, but when she’s finished with madam she’ll come.”
“Who’s coming, who’s with madam?” asked the forester, completely confused.
“A uniform is a uniform,” the servant informed him. “My livery, of course, doesn’t count, nor your green one, because you’re only in private service. If you were a Government forester, that would be different.”
Kniebusch, completely lost, agreed. “Yes, yes.” He was still hoping, of course, that he would in the end understand something of Rader’s enigmatic remarks.
“A civilian shouldn’t get mixed up with uniforms,” announced the servant earnestly. After pondering a long time, his brow puckered, he opened the door a little and listened. Then he nodded, went across the room to the forester and said in a low voice reproachfully: “You’re a civilian, Herr Kniebusch, and you want to get mixed up with uniforms.”
“Certainly not,” cried the forester, aghast.
“Have you ever considered, Herr Kniebusch, what the Geheimrat loves most?” went on the servant, returning to his post by the door.
“No.… Why? I don’t understand what you’re getting at, Herr Rader.”
“Don’t you really?”
“No. But I believe he loves his forest most.”
The servant nodded. “Yes, he won’t want to give it away before he dies. And to whom will he leave it?” He looked expectantly at the forester.
“There’s the old lady,” pondered the forester, “and there’s his son at Birnbaum. And here is the Rittmeister.” He considered the case.
“Well, whom will he give the forest to?” questioned the servant condescendingly, as one who puts a very easy question to a backward schoolchild. “Or will he split it up in two or three portions?”
“Split up—his forest?” Kniebusch was full of contempt. “No, don’t imagine such a thing, Herr Rader. If they split the forest after his death I believe he’d come out of his grave and pull up the boundary stones. But he’ll have written down somewhere what he wants done with it.”
“And who will he have set down, Herr Kniebusch?” the servant persisted. “Perhaps the old lady?”
“Certainly not. She’s always saying that she won’t go into the wood because of the snakes. No, Herr Rader, she won’t come into it at all.”
“Or the son in Birnbaum?”
“I don’t think so, either,” said the forester. “He hasn’t a good word for him, because he’s much too grand for his liking and is always asking for money. And now he’s gone and bought a racing car … so that he can run away from his debts, as the old man grumbled.”
“So the old man knows about the racing car,” meditated the servant. “You told him that for certain, Herr Kniebusch.”
Red in the face, the old man wanted to protest, but Hubert paid no attention. “Then madam upstairs will inherit the forest,” he said conclusively, pointing with his thumb to the ceiling.
“Even when he can’t stand the Rittmeister?” queried the forester anxiously. “And this business with the geese will also turn out badly.”
“Who, then, will inherit the forest?” persisted the servant.
“I don’t know,” said the forester, perplexed. “There are his sister’s children in Pomerania, but—”
“What about his grandchild?”
“Who?” The forester’s jaw dropped. “What do you mean? Fraulein Violet is only fifteen.” But Rader continued to stare at him. “Of course,” went on Kniebusch thoughtfully, “she’s the only one whom he takes with him when he goes shooting, that’s true.… And when he measures the timber, she’s got to go with him with the yardstick and tape-measure. Oh, God, Herr Rader, nobody knows yet, and the young Fraulein herself may not know either.”
“And you’ve wanted to get mixed up with uniforms,” said Rader contemptuously.
Before the forester was able to protest, however, there were hasty steps in the corridor and Vi walked in. “Thank God I managed it, after all. I couldn’t get away before. Armgard has been sobbing out to Mamma that you’re always so unkind to her, Hubert. Are you really so unkind?”
“No,” replied Hubert seriously. “I’m only strict with her and I don’t lower myself with females at all.”
“Good God, Hubert, how serious you’re looking, like a carp in the pond. I’m sure you live on vinegar. I’m merely a female myself.”
“No,” declared Hubert. “First of all, you’re a lady and then you’re my superior, so I can’t lower myself with you, Fraulein.”
“Thank you very much, Hubert. You’re really magnificent. I believe you’ll burst with vanity and pride one of these days.”
She looked at him, very pleased, with her slightly protruding bright eyes. Suddenly she became graver and whispered mysteriously: “Is it true, Hubert, what Armgard told Mamma—that you’re a fiend?”
Unmoved, Rader’s fishy eyes looked at the inquisitive girl. Not a trace of color rose in his wrinkled gray cheeks. “But Armgard didn’t say that in front of you, Fraulein,” he maintained. “You’ve been listening at the door again.”
Violet also was not in the least embarrassed. With surprise the forester saw how familiar this odd pair were. Rader was much cleverer than he had thought. He must be on his guard with him.
Vi laughed. “Don’t be silly, Hubert. If I didn’t do a bit of listening I wouldn’t hear anything. Mamma tells me nothing, and recently when we saw the stork in the meadow and I asked Papa if it were really true, he went quite red. Lord, poor Papa, how embarrassed he was! And so you’re a demon?”
“Here is Forester Kniebusch,” interposed Rader, unshaken.
“Yes, of course. Good evening, Kniebusch. What’s the matter? Hubert behaves mysteriously, but, as a matter of fact, he always behaves like that. What’s the matter with you?”
“Lord, Fraulein,” said the forester miserably, for he saw to his horror the moment coming when he had to tell his tale. Already everything was confused and he no longer knew what he had really seen and what he had only surmised. And neither had he the courage to tell everything to her face; maybe Black Meier had not been bragging and she really loved him. Then he would be nicely in the soup.
“I really don’t know.… I only wanted to ask … I’ve caught a glimpse of the stag which the Rittmeister wants to get so much, and if the Rittmeister is coming home this evening … He was standing in the clover, but now he has gone into Haase’s field …”
Vi looked at him attentively. Rader, however, eyed him coldly and contemptuously, waiting quietly till the forester had got himself completely bogged. Then he was unmerciful. “It’s about the un-i-form, Fraulein. If I hadn’t been here he would have told madam and not you.”
“Kniebusch,” said Violet, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself. Always sneaking and telling tales behind one’s back.…”
And now the forester had to reveal everything, if for no other reason than to exonerate himself; starting with the errand round the village, down to the summons into the inn. His account of Meier’s drunken twaddle was faltering and exceedingly embarrassed. He would have liked to beat about the bush, but could not succeed. Vi and Rader were unrelenting investigators.
“No, you’re leaving something out, Kniebusch. Tell me everything. I promise you I won’t blush.”
Nevertheless she did blush. She leaned against the wall, she half closed her eyes, her lips trembled, and she breathed quickly. But she did not falter. “Go on, Kniebusch—what did he say next?”
And now came the affair of the letter.
“Did he read it all out? What did he read to you? Tell me every word he did read.… Oh, and you were idiot enough to believe that I’d written that to him? Him!—That cad!”
Now came the part about the encounter at Haase’s.
“What? You saw the—gentleman and you told him nothing? Didn’t even give him a hint? Of all the fools,
