Heaven knows how long I waited.

Soon I heard a laugh, light, infectious, fearless! Then I heard a
voice, soft and pleading.

"Don't go; in mercy's name, don't go, Gretchen! You may be killed!"

English! I had actually heard a voice speak my native tongue.

"Nonsense, Betty! I am not afraid of any ghost that ever walked, rode
or floated."

"Ghost? It may be a burglar!"

"Or Steinbock! We shall find nothing."

Indeed!

"Nothing but a rat, bungling about in the armor." The laughter came
again. "You are not _afraid_, Betty?"

"Only cautious. But how can you laugh? A rat?" cried a voice rather
anxiously. "Why, they are as big as dogs!"

"But arrant cowards."

So! one of these voices spoke English as its birthright; the other
spoke with an accent, that is to say, by adoption. Into what had I
fallen? Whither had my hunger brought me? I was soon to learn.