“I thank you.  Pray let us lose no time, then.”

CHAPTER IV.

Rojanow fastened the strap which held his gun a little more securely, and turned at once into a narrow, half overgrown path, which lay unquestionably in the direction of Fuerstenstein.

Without further parley he assumed the role of guide, and the adventure began to have charms for him.

The stranger was certainly lovely enough to inspire him with zeal in her service.  The clear, delicate oval of her face, the high, smooth forehead, with its heavy crown of blonde hair, the regular features, were all in perfect harmony.  The beauty of the countenance was faultless, though cold and symmetrical, with an expression which betokened energy of character and great strength of purpose.  The girl was at most only eighteen or nineteen years old, but oddly enough, she possessed none of that indescribable attractiveness which seems the natural accompaniment of girlhood, nothing of the hilarity and naivete of youth.  The great blue eyes gazed at you earnestly but coldly, and you felt instinctively that the soul which looked out through them never lost itself in girlish dreams of brave heroes and suppliant lovers.  The bearing and appearance was haughty and reserved, yet in form and gesture she was gracefulness itself.

Rojanow had time and leisure to notice all this as he directed her course, sometimes behind her, sometimes in front, now holding back the low, overhanging branches, and a second later warning her of some sudden irregularity in the ground.  The narrow forest footpath was anything but a pleasant road for a ramble, and was an especially trying passage for the woman.  Her dress caught frequently on thorn and branch, and her long gauze veil had to be loosened from more than one bramble, while her feet sank, time and again, in the soft, moist, moss-covered earth.  It could not be helped, and yet Hartmut felt in his self assumed position as guide, that he was not covering himself with as much glory as be could have wished.

“I regret extremely, Fraeulein, that you are obliged to take so uncomfortable a path,” he said politely.  “I fear you will be exhausted, but we are in the thickest part of the forest and have consequently no choice.”

“I do not become exhausted so easily,” was the answer.  “I care little about the disagreeable features of the way, if it will but lead me to the goal.”

The remark had a somewhat unusual sound coming as it did from the mouth of a young girl; Rojanow thought so, at any rate, and he gave a slight mocking smile as he repeated: 

“If it lead to the goal!  You are quite right, that is my idea too; but ladies generally cherish other opinions.  They prefer to be carried quietly over all the rough places.”

“Not all!  You err there; many women much prefer going alone, without submitting to watch and ward, as though they were children.”