But the man shook her arm roughly. Two gigantic black dogs sprang upon her and snapped at her handkerchief.

"It is your dog; I know the red rascal," cried the shepherd.

This was quite true, for Spitehahn had also observed the flock of sheep and devised his dire plan. Suddenly, with a hoa.r.s.e yell, he sprang on a sheep and bit it severely in the leg. Then followed the flight of the flock, rushing together in a heap--Spitehahn in the midst of them, barking, scratching and biting, the brute sped along a dry ditch to the left, and finally down the slope to the wood into the thickest copse.

At length he trotted home in safety, showing his teeth, and leaving his young mistress trembling beneath the hand of the shepherd, who was still brandishing his stick over her.

"Let go of the young lady," called out the angry voice of a man. Fritz Hahn sprang forward, pushed back the arm of the shepherd, and caught Laura, fainting, in his arms.

The interposition of a third party drew from the shepherd new complaints, at the conclusion of which he again, in a flaming pa.s.sion, endeavored to lay hold of the girl, and threatened to set his dogs at the Doctor. But Fritz, deeply roused, exclaimed, "Keep your dogs back, and behave yourself like a man, or I will have you punished. If the dog injured your flock, adequate compensation shall be made. I am ready to be security to you or to the owner of these sheep."

Thus he spoke, holding Laura firmly in his arms; her head lay upon his shoulders, and the red handkerchief hung over his waistcoat down to his breast. "Compose yourself, dear Miss," he said, with tender anxiety.

Laura raised her head and looked fearfully on the countenance which, excited with tenderness and sympathy, bent over her, and she perceived her situation with alarm. Fearful fate! He again, for the third time, the inevitable friend and preserver! She extricated herself from him, and said, in a faint voice, "I thank you, Doctor, I can walk alone now."

"No, I cannot leave you thus," cried Fritz, and again began to negotiate with the shepherd, who meanwhile had fetched the two victims of the murderous dog, and laid them down as proofs of the ill deed.

Fritz put his hand into his pocket and handed the shepherd a part of the money promised as compensation, gave him his name, and settled a future meeting with the man, who, after the appearance of the money, became more calm.

"I pray you take my arm," he said, turning chivalrously to Laura.

"I cannot accept that," replied the girl, quite confused, and thinking of the existing hostility.

"It is only my duty as a man," said Fritz, soothingly. "You are too exhausted to go alone."

"Then I beg of you to take me to my G.o.dmother; she lives near here."

Fritz took the little basket from her, collected the fruit that had fallen out, and then conducted her to the village.

"I should not have been so much afraid of the man," said Laura, "but the black dogs were so fearful."

She took his arm hesitatingly; for now, when the fright had pa.s.sed, she felt the painfulness of her situation, and was alas!

conscience-smitten. For early in the day she had thought the travelling toilet of the Doctor, as she saw him return home, unendurable; but Fritz was not a man who could long be considered unendurable. He was now full of tender feelings and care for her, endeavored to spare her every roughness on the road, stretching out his foot in going along to put the little stones out of the way. He began an indifferent conversation about her G.o.dmother, which obliged her to talk, and brought other thoughts into her head. It happened besides, that he himself highly esteemed the lady in question. Indeed, she had once, when he was a schoolboy, given him a cherry-cake and he had in return composed a poem on her birthday. At the word poem Laura was astounded.

In that house, too! Could they write poetry? But then the Doctor spoke very slightingly of the elevating creations of happier hours, and when she asked him:

"Have you really written poetry?"

He answered, laughingly, "Only for home use, like every one."

Then she felt much depressed by his cold disregard of the muse. There certainly was a difference between one style of verse and another; at Hahn's they only wrote about cherry-cakes. But immediately afterwards she blamed herself for her unbecoming thoughts towards her benefactor.

So she turned in a friendly way to him and spoke of the pleasure she had found just before in watching the squirrels of the wood. She had once bought one of a boy in the streets and had set it free, and the little animal had twice sprung from the trees upon her shoulders; and she had at last run away with tears in her eyes, that it might remain in the woods. Now, when she saw a squirrel, it always appeared as if it belonged to her; and she undoubtedly deceived herself; but the squirrels seemed to be of the same opinion with regard to her. This story led to the remarkable discovery that the Doctor had had a similar experience with a small owl, and he imitated the way in which the owl nodded its head when he brought in its food; and in doing so his spectacles looked so much like owl's eyes that Laura could not help laughing.

Conversing in this way they arrived at her G.o.dmother's house. Fritz relinquished Laura's arm and wished to take his leave. She remained standing on the threshold with her hand on the latch and said, in an embarra.s.sed tone:

"Will you not come in, at least for a moment, as you know my G.o.dmother?"

"With pleasure," replied the Doctor.

Her G.o.dmother was sitting in her summer cottage, which was somewhat smaller, damper, and less pleasant than her lodging in the town. When the children of the hostile houses entered together--first Laura, still pale and solemn, behind her the Doctor with an equally serious countenance--the good lady was so astonished that she sat staring on the sofa and could only bring out the words:

"What do I see? Is it possible? You two children together!"

This exclamation dispelled the magic which for a moment had bound the young souls to each other. Laura went coldly up to her G.o.dmother and related how the Doctor had accidently come up at the time of her distress. But the Doctor explained that he had only wished to bring the young lady safely to her; then he inquired after the health of the old lady and took his leave.

While her G.o.dmother was applying restoratives and determining that Laura should return home another way under the care of her maid-servant, the Doctor went back with light steps to the wood. His frame of mind was entirely changed and a smile frequently pa.s.sed over his countenance. The thought was constantly recurring to him how the girl had rested in his arms. He had felt her bosom against his; her hair had touched his cheeks and he had gazed on her white neck. The worthy youth blushed at the thought and hastened his steps. In one thing at least the Professor was not wrong--a woman is, after all, very different from the ideal that a man derives from the study of human life and the history of the world. It certainly seemed to the Doctor now that there was something very attractive in wavy locks, rosy cheeks and a beautiful form. He admitted that this discovery was not new, but he had not hitherto felt its value with such distinctness. It had been so touching when she recovered from her swoon, opened her eyes and withdrew herself bashfully from his arms. Also his having defended her so valiantly filled him with cheerful pride. He stopped on the field of battle and laughed out right heartily. Then he went along the same road by which Laura had come from the wood. He looked along the ground as if he could discover the traces of her little feet upon the gravel, and he enjoyed the brightness and warmth of the air, the alluring song of the birds, the fluttering of the dragon-flies, with as light a heart as his pretty neighbor had done shortly before. Then the recollection of his friend came across him. He thought, with satisfaction, of the agitations of the Professor's mind and the commotion which Thusnelda had brought into it. The result had had a droll effect upon the Professor. His friend had been very comical in the pathos of his rising pa.s.sion. Such a firm, earnest being contrasted curiously with the whimsical attacks which fate makes on the life of earth-born creatures.

When he came to the last bush in which rustled one of the little gra.s.shoppers, whose chirping he had often heard in times of anxiety, he spoke out gaily, "Even these have their turn, first the sheep, then the gra.s.shoppers." He began singing half aloud a certain old song in which the gra.s.shoppers were asked to go away and no longer to burden his spirit. Thus he returned home from his walk in right cheerful frame of mind, like a man of the world.

"Henry," began Mrs. Hummel, in the afternoon, solemnly to her husband, "compose yourself to listen to a terrible story. I conjure you to remain calm and avoid a scene, and take pains to overcome your aversion. And, above all, consider our feelings."

She then related to him the misfortune that had occurred.

"As to the dog," replied Mr. Hummel, emphatically, "it has not been clearly shown that it was our dog. The testimony of the shepherd does not satisfy me; I know this fellow and require an impartial witness.

There are so many strange dogs running about the city nowadays that the safety of the community is endangered, and I have often said it is a disgrace to our police. But if it should be our dog, I cannot see anything particularly wrong about it. If the sheep stretched out its leg to him and he bit it a little, that is its own affair and there is nothing to be said about it. As to what further concerns the shepherd, I know his master--so that is my affair. Finally, with regard to the young man across the way that is your affair. I do not wish to visit on him the evil conduct of his parents, but I must say once for all that I will have nothing to do with the people opposite."

"I must call your attention to the fact, Mr. Hummel," interposed his wife, "that the Doctor has already paid money to the shepherd."

"Money for my child? That I will not tolerate," exclaimed Mr. Hummel.

"How much did he pay?"

"But father----" said Laura imploringly.

"Can you expect," exclaimed Mrs. Hummel, reproachfully, "that your daughter, in danger of death, should count the groschens that her rescuer paid for her?"

"That's just like a woman," grumbled the master of the house; "you have no head for business. Can you not incidentally ask him? The shepherd I take upon myself, but shall not trouble myself about the Doctor. Only this I tell you. The affair must be shortly settled and our relations with that house must remain as before. All I ask is to go on smoothly.

I intend to take no notice of these Hahns."

After this decision he left the ladies to their feelings.

"Your father is right," said Mrs. Hummel, "to leave the princ.i.p.al matter to us. With his harsh disposition thanks would come very ungraciously."

"Mother," said Laura, entreatingly, "you have more tact than I. Can you not go over there?"

"My child," answered Mrs. Hummel, clearing her throat, "that is not easy. This unfortunate occurrence of the dogs has left us women too much at variance. No, as you are the princ.i.p.al person now concerned, you must go over there yourself."

"I cannot visit the Doctor," exclaimed Laura alarmed.

"That is not necessary," said Mrs. Hummel, soothingly. "There is one advantage our neighborhood possesses--we are able to see from our windows when the men go out. You may then rush over to the mother and address your thanks for the son to her. You are very judicious, my child, and will know how to act."

Thereupon Laura took her seat at the window, not well pleased to sit as watcher upon her neighbors; this lying in wait was repugnant to her. At last the Doctor appeared on the threshold; he looked the same as usual; there was nothing chivalrous to be seen in him; his figure was slender and he was of middle height--Laura liked tall people. He had an intellectual countenance, but it was concealed by his large spectacles, which gave him a pedantic appearance; when he did smile his face became quite handsome, but his usual serious expression was not becoming to him. Fritz disappeared round the corner and Laura put on her hat with a heavy heart and went into the hostile house, which she had never yet entered. Dorchen, who was not in the secret, looked astonished at the visit, but with quick intuition connected it with the return of the Doctor and announced, of her own accord, that neither of the gentlemen were at home, but that Mrs. Hahn was in the garden.

Mrs. Hahn was sitting in the Chinese temple. Both women stood opposite each other with a feeling of embarra.s.sment; both thought at the same time of their last conversation and to both the recollection was painful. But with Mrs. Hahn the danger to which Laura had been exposed at once overcame this natural nervousness. "Ah, you poor young lady!"

she began, but while overflowing with compa.s.sion, with delicate tact she drew away from the Chinese building, feeling that it was not an appropriate place for this visit and invited her to sit on a little bench in front of the white Muse. This was the pleasantest spot about the house; here the orange tree smiled upon its donor, and Laura could bring herself into a grateful mood. She told her neighbor how deeply she felt indebted to the Doctor, and she begged her to say this to her son, because she herself in the confusion had not properly fulfilled this duty. She then entered into the necessary business about the bad shepherd. Good Mrs. Hahn was pleased with her thanks and in a motherly way begged Laura to take off her hat for a little while, as it was warm in the garden. But Laura did not take off her hat. She expressed in fitting terms her pleasure in the garden, said how beautifully it bloomed, and heard with satisfaction of the splendid orange tree which had been sent anonymously to Mr. Hahn, the fruit of which was sweet, for Mr. Hahn had celebrated the return of his son by an artistic drink, for which he had taken the first fruit of the little tree.

It was altogether a diplomatic visit, not extended unnecessarily; and Laura was glad when, on departing, she had repeated her compliments and thanks to the Doctor.

In Laura's secret record, also, the events of this day were very shortly disposed of. Even an observation she had begun on the happiness of the lonely dwellers in the wood remained unfinished. How was it, Laura?--you, who write down everything; who, when an insect or a sparrow hops in at the window, burst forth into verse! Here was an event influencing your whole life--danger, unconsciousness in the arms of a stranger, who, in spite of his learned aspect, is a handsome youth! This would be the time to depict and indulge in fancy dreams.

Capricious girl, why does this adventure lie like a dead stone in the fantastic landscape that surrounds thee? Is it with thee as with the traveler, who, weary of the Alpine scenery, looks below him and wonders that this marvelous nature so little impresses him, till gradually, but perhaps not for years, the scenes pursue him, waking or dreaming, and draw him anew to the mountains? Or has the nearness of the wicked animal who occasioned the outrage impeded the flight of your soaring wings? There he lies before your threshold, red and ragged, licking his lips.