The travellers, muffled in Siberian furs, passed close by us just as we
were going to mount. I could only discern the long brown moustache of
one, and his singularly bright and sparkling eyes.

They entered the hotel.

The groom was holding our horses by the bridle. He wished us _bon
voyage_, removed his hand, and we were off.

Sperver rode a pure Mecklemburg. I was mounted on a stout cob bred in the
Ardennes, full of fire; we flew over the snowy ground. In ten minutes we
had left Fribourg behind us.

The sky was beginning to clear up. As far as the eye could reach we could
distinguish neither road, path, nor track. Our only company were the
ravens of the Black Forest spreading their hollow wings wide over the
banks of snow, trying one place after another unsuccessfully for food,
and croaking, "Misery! misery!"

Gideon, with his weather-beaten countenance, his fur cloak and cap,
galloped on ahead, whistling airs from the _Freyschütz_; sometimes as he
turned I could see the sparkling drops of moisture hanging from his long
moustache.

"Well, Fritz, my boy, this is a fine winter's morning."

"So it is, but it is rather severe; don't you think so?"

"I am fond of a clear hard frost," he replied; "it promotes circulation.
If our old minister Tobias had but the courage to start out in weather