“Why should you bring him so many shirts and stockings if he doesn’t let you in?  Don’t bring him anything,” Maezli cried out indignantly.

“No, no, Maezli.  You see, these are his shirts and stockings, and I have only washed and mended them for him,” Apollonie explained.

“Besides, Mr. Trius can’t do as he pleases.  Do you see the open windows up there?  No, you couldn’t see them from here.  Well, up there lives a sick gentleman, a baron, who won’t let anybody come into the garden.  He is the master there and can give orders, and people must not disobey him.  Look, one can see the open windows quite plainly now.”

“Can we see the bad baron, too?” asked Maezli peeping up searchingly.

“I did not say that he was bad, Maezli, I only said that he can give orders,” Apollonie corrected.  “And you can’t see him because he is lying sick in bed.  Look, look! the fine, thick raspberry bushes used to be there.”  Apollonie was pointing to wild-looking shrubs that were climbing up the castle incline.  “Oh, how different it all used to be!  Two splendid hedges used to run up there, then across and down again on the other side.  Both girls and boys used to feast on them for whole days at a time, and there were always enough left for pots and pots full of jam.  And now how terrible it all looks!  Everything is growing wild.  Nobody who has known the place the way I knew it could have ever thought that it would look like this.”

Maezli was not very deeply moved by the change.  She had long been gazing at the high gate which was to be their destination and which they were nearing rapidly.

“Does Mr. Trius take his big stick along when he comes down to the gate?” she asked, looking cautiously about her.

“Yes, yes, he never goes about without it, Maezli, but you need not be afraid,” Apollonie calmed her.  “He won’t hurt you, and I should advise him not to.  Look! there he comes already.  He has been spying about, and nothing ever escapes him.”

Mr. Trius was already standing at the gate with his stick and opened it.  “That is fine,” he said, receiving the basket, and was in the act of closing the door again immediately.

“No, no, Mr. Trius, don’t do that!” said Apollonie, restraining him.  She had vigorously pushed back the door and posted herself firmly in the opening.  “I always do my duty punctually and I like to do it because you belong to the castle.  But you can at least let me have a word about the master’s health.”

“The same,” was the reply.

“The same; what does that mean?” Apollonie retorted.  “Do you watch him while he sleeps?  Are you cooking the right things for him?  What does the master eat?”

“Venison.”

“What?  How can you cook such things for him?  Such rich and heavy meat for a sick man!  What does the doctor say to that?”

“Nothing.”

“What, nothing?  He certainly must say what his patient ought to eat.  Who is his doctor?  I hope a good one.  I am afraid the master is not troubling much about it.  Did you fetch the one from Sils?  He is very careful, I know.”