He pushed the door open; and Kasper, who was only drumming with his fingers upon the window-panes, seemed very glad to see us.  That little man had flaxen hair and a snub nose.  Sperver had made him his factotum; it was he who took to pieces and cleaned his guns, mended the riding-horses’ harness, fed the dogs in his absence, and superintended in the kitchen the preparation of his favourite dishes.  On grand occasions he was outrider.  He now stood with a napkin over his arm, and was gravely uncorking the long-necked bottle of Rhenish.

“Kasper,” said his master, as soon as he had surveyed this satisfactory state of things—­“Kasper, I was very well pleased with you yesterday; everything was excellent; the roast kid, the chicken, and the fish.  I like fair-play, and when a man has done his duty I like to tell him so.  To-day I am quite as well satisfied.  The boar’s head looks excellent with its white-wine sauce; so does the crayfish soup.  Isn’t it your opinion too, Fritz?”

I assented.

“Well,” said Sperver, “since it is so, you shall have the honour of filling our glasses.  I mean to raise you step by step, for you are a very deserving fellow.”

Kasper looked down bashfully and blushed; he seemed to enjoy his master’s praises.

We took our places, and I was wondering at this quondam poacher, who in years gone by was content to cook his own potatoes in his cottage, now assuming all the airs of a great seigneur.  Had he been born Lord of Nideck he could not have put on a more noble and dignified attitude at table.  A single glance brought Kasper to his side, made him bring such and such a bottle, or bring the dish he required.

We were just going to attack the boar’s head when Master Tobias appeared in person, followed by no less a personage than the Baron of Zimmer-Bluderich, attended by his groom.

We rose from our seats.  The young baron advanced to meet us with head uncovered.  It was a noble-looking head, pale and haughty, with a surrounding of fine dark hair.  He stopped before Sperver.

“Monsieur,” said he in that pure Saxon accent which no other dialect can approach, “I am come to ask you for information as to this locality.  Madame la Comtesse de Nideck tells me that no one knows these mountains so well as yourself.”

“That is quite true, monseigneur, and I am quite at your service.”

“Circumstances of great urgency oblige me to start in the midst of the storm,” replied the baron, pointing to the window-panes thickly covered with flakes of snow.  “I must reach Wald Horn, six leagues from this place!”

“That will be a hard matter, my lord, for all the roads are blocked up with snow.”

“I am aware of that, but necessity obliges.”

“You must have a guide, then.  I will go, if you will allow me, to Sebalt Kraft, the head huntsman at Nideck.  He knows the mountains almost as well as I do.”

“I am much obliged to you for your kind offers, and I am very grateful, but still I cannot accept them.  Your instructions will be quite sufficient.”