“Are you pleased with Fuerstenstein?” he asked.  “I have never been near the castle, and have only seen it in the distance, but it seems to overawe the whole region with its magnificence.  A singular taste indeed to find anything lovely in this landscape, and erect a palace here.”

“Evidently not your taste, at least.”

“I am not specially fond of uniformity, and here there is nothing but sameness.  Woods and woods, and nothing but woods—­at times one is almost driven to despair.”

There was a hidden rancour in these words, as if the poor German forest, with its whispers and its winds was to blame for all the bitterness which lay in the soul of this returned wanderer; it almost seemed as if he must flee from them, for he could hardly endure the simple, earnest song of olden times which fluttered down to him from the tall fir trees.  But his companion only heard the slighting tone.

“Are you a foreigner, Herr Rojanow?” she asked.

A black shadow crossed Hartmut’s brow, and he hesitated for a moment before he answered, coldly: 

“Yes, Fraeulein.”

“I thought as much from your name and appearance, and from the peculiar opinions which you express, as well.”

“At any rate, they are unbiased and candid,” answered Hartmut, nettled by the reproof which lay in the last words.  “I have been pretty much all over the world, and am just back now from the Orient.  To him who knows the ocean with its radiant, transparent blue, or its terrible, deadly storms, to one who has basked in the witcheries of the warmth and light of the tropics, everything here seems cold and colorless; these eternal green forests are, in fact, the only features of a German landscape.”

The compassionate shrug of the shoulders with which he concluded, appeared to rouse his companion from her imperturbability.  An expression of displeasure crossed her face, and her voice had in it a tone of resentment, as she answered: 

“That is altogether a matter of taste.  I know, if not the Orient, at least Southern Europe very well; those sunny, glowing landscapes, with their vivid colorings attract one in the beginning—­that is true enough—­but soon, too soon, exhaust one.  You lose all strength and vitality; you can stagnate and dream, but you can never live and work.  But why discuss it?  Naturally you know nothing of our great forests, or our people either, I presume.”

Hartmut smiled with an unmistakable satisfaction.  He had succeeded in breaking through this icy reserve.  All his arts and blandishments had been exercised in vain, but he now saw that the momentary resentment had added the charm which was needed to her lovely, cold features, so he determined to arouse her still further.

If he felt aggrieved he would also find pleasure in exciting her.