With that he gathered up his fishing tackle and crossed to the other
side of the pond, while Hartmut threw himself on the ground again.

It was one of those autumn days which during the midday hours recall
thoughts of early spring. The sunshine was so golden, the air so mild,
the woods so fresh and odorous. Upon the glistening little lake danced
thousands of shining sparks, and the long grass whispered softly and
mysteriously to itself whenever a breath of wind passed over it.

Hartmut lay stretched out motionless on the grass as if listening to the
secrets it told to the autumnal wind. The wild passion and excitement
which flashed from his eyes when he spoke of the bird of prey had all
vanished. Now the eyes which looked into the heavens above were sad and
dreamy, and there rested in them an expression of ardent longing.

A light step, almost unheard on the soft ground, approached, and the low
bushes rustled as if against a silk garment. Then they parted and a
woman's figure appeared and stood looking intently at the young dreamer.

"Hartmut!"

The boy started and sprang up instantly. He knew neither the voice nor
the apparition which stood before him, but saw it was a lady, and he
made her one of his courtly bows.

"Pardon, Madame--"

A slender, trembling hand was laid quickly and restrainingly on his arm.

"Be quiet, not so loud; your companion might hear us, and I want to