eshold; even the women
made their way out of their dark retreat, and had to be scolded back
again.

"Who knows whether they have not overlooked the castle?" said one; "or
if they have courage to attack us?" suggested another; while a sagacious
tailor proved, by a clever <i>resume</i> of the different reports received,
that all the Polish frocks were by this time far beyond Rosmin. Yet,
eagerly as each asserted that the danger must now be over, all listened
anxiously to the step of the sentinels, and looked constantly to the
tower, to see if any signal were given thence. Even Anton found the
suspense unbearable, and at length he too betook himself to the tower.
Here the whole staff was assembled. The blind baron sat in his
arm-chair, behind him stood Lenore's tall figure shading his eyes with
her parasol; four riflemen sat in the broad embrasures; and Fink,
perched on the wall, hung down his legs into space, and puffed the blue
clouds of a cigar into the wind.

"Nothing to be seen?" asked Anton.

"Nothing," replied Fink, "except a drunken band of our villagers, who
are moving off on the Tarow road." He pointed to a dark mass just
vanishing into the wood. "It is very well that we have got rid of the
rabble. They are afraid of the gray-jackets, and are off to plunder
elsewhere. Every hour's delay is a gain, since we reckon that at best
there is no help to be looked for till to-morrow. Now those gentlemen
behind the wood are not interesting enough to wish for a visit of
twenty-four hours from them. This is a grand spot, Baron Rothsattel,"
continued Fink. "Certainly there's not much to be seen--some fir woods,
your fields, and plenty of sand; but it is a glorious station to defend,
because it is so bare all round the castle--without tree or bank. Your
sentimentalists, indeed, might pronounce it an uninteresting view. But
what I consider splendid is this: with the exception of the nearest
barn, which is about three hundred yards off in a straight line, there
is no shelter better than that of a molehill for one of the enemy's
skirmishers. Far as a rifle-ball can range, we are monarchs of the plain
below; only there is a thicket in the way yonder--a plantation, I
believe, of Fraeulein Lenore's."

"I acknowledge myself guilty," said Lenore.

"Very well," replied Fink, carelessly; "then you shall pay the cost if
we are hit. Half a dozen riflemen might lurk safely there."

"It is Lenore's favorite spot," said the baron, apo