"How the whole region would stare and gabble if we rode into the market-
square together. No one living can remember seeing a Znaeym and a von
Gradwitz talking to one another in friendship. And what peace there
would be among the forester folk if we ended our feud to-night. And if
we choose to make peace among our people there is none other to
interfere, no interlopers from outside . . . You would come and keep the
Sylvester night beneath my roof, and I would come and feast on some high
day at your castle . . . I would never fire a shot on your land, save
when you invited me as a guest; and you should come and shoot with me
down in the marshes where the wildfowl are. In all the countryside there
are none that could hinder if we willed to make peace. I never thought
to have wanted to do other than hate you all my life, but I think I have
changed my mind about things too, this last half-hour. And you offered
me your wine-flask . . . Ulrich von Gradwitz, I will be your friend."

For a space both men were silent, turning over in their minds the
wonderful changes that this dramatic reconciliation would bring about. In
the cold, gloomy forest, with the wind tearing in fitful gusts through
the naked branches and whistling round the tree-trunks, they lay and
waited for the help that would now bring release and succour to both
parties. And each prayed a private prayer that his men might be the
first to arrive, so that he might be the first to show honourable
attention to the enemy that had become a friend.

Presently, as the wind dropped for a moment, Ulrich broke silence.

"Let's shout for help," he said; he said; "in this lull our voices may
carry a little way."

"They won't carry far through the trees and undergrowth," said Georg,