The old Judge’s eyes brightened when he saw Charlotte in her short poppy-colored skirt, her arms bare to the elbow, running here and there in the garden paths gathering the flowers, and when he saw her approaching him with her huge bouquet, which she humbly presented to him with downcast eyes.

“Monsieur le Juge, will you deign to accept this bouquet from your little friend Charlotte?”

A sudden blush overspread his venerable cheeks, and as she stooped to kiss his hand, he said: 

“No, no, my dear child; accept rather from your old friend, your best friend, a more tender embrace.”

He kissed both her burning cheeks.  The Head Forester laughing heartily, cried out: 

“Monsieur Seiler, come and sit down under the acacia tree and drink some of your own wine.  Ah, my wife is right when she calls you our benefactor.”

Mr. Zacharias seated himself at the little round table, placing his pole behind him; Charlotte sat facing him, Yeri Foerster was on his right; then dinner was served and Mr. Seiler started to speak of his plans for the future.

He was wealthy and had inherited a fine fortune from his parents.  He wished to buy some few hundred acres of forest land in the valley, and build in the midst a forester’s lodge.  “We would always be together,” he said turning to Yeri Foerster, “sometimes you at my house, sometimes I at yours.”

Christine gave her advice, and they chatted, planning now one thing, then another.  Charlotte seemed perfectly contented, and Zacharias imagined that these simple people understood him.

Thus the time passed, and when night had fallen and they had had a surfeit of Rikevir, of rabbit and of Dame Christine’s “koechten” sprinkled with cinnamon.  Mr. Seiler, happy and contented, full of joyous hope, ascended to his room, putting off until to-morrow his declaration, not doubting for a moment but that it would be accepted.

About this time of the year the mountaineers from Harberg, Kusnacht and the surrounding hamlets descend from their mountains about one o’clock in the morning and commence to mow the high grass in the valleys.  One can hear their monotonous songs in the middle of the night keeping time to the circular movement of the scythes, the jingle of the cattle bells, and the young men’s and girls’ voices laughing afar in the silence of the night.  It is a strange harmony, especially when the night is clear and there is a bright moon, and the heavy dew falling makes a pitter-patter on the leaves of the great forest trees.

Mr. Zacharias heard nothing of all this, for he was sleeping soundly; but the noise of a handful of peas being thrown against the window waked him suddenly.  He listened and heard outside at the bottom of the wall, a “scit! scit!” so softly whispered that you might almost think it the cry of some bird.  Nevertheless, the good man’s heart fluttered.

“What is that?” he cried.