logetically; "she has
a grass-plot there; it is the only place outside the wall where she can
sit in the open air."

"Indeed!" said Fink; "that's a different thing;" and, looking round for
Lenore, he saw she had disappeared. The next moment the yard gate
opened, and Lenore, followed by a few laborers, hurried to the
plantation.

"What are you going to do?" cried Fink from his height.

Lenore signified by a gesture that she was going to have the trees
removed; and, seizing a young fir, she exerted all her strength to
uproot it. The men followed her example. In a few moments the young
plantation was done away with. Then Lenore herself caught up a spade,
and began to level the grassy mound.

Now Anton had planted these trees with the young lady. Both had
thoroughly enjoyed the improvement. Since then, Lenore had gone there
daily, and each of the little trees had been to her a personal friend.
When, therefore, Anton saw it all annihilated, he could not help saying
somewhat coldly, "That feeble plantation would have done us little harm;
surely you have caused useless devastation."

"Why," replied Fink, "the lady has acted like a prudent commandant of a
fortress, the first display of whose talents always consists in leveling
about the building, and a plantation can be made again any spring day.
Carry off the wood to the farm-yard," cried he to the men; "tear down
the wooden inclosure of the well, bring the boards to the yard, and hide
the well's mouth."

When Lenore returned to her place behind her father's chair, Fink nodded
to her like an elder comrade to a younger, took up his telescope, and
again explored the border of the forest.

And thus the party spent another hour. No one was inclined to speak, and
Fink's occasional jests fell on unfruitful ground. Anton went down to
keep the people in order, but something soon impelled him to return to
the battlements, and watch the forest with the rest. At last, after a
longer silence than usual, Fink, throwing away his cigar, observed, "It
is getting late, and we pay our guests too much honor by expecting them
with such silent devotion. When the news came of their march, Wohlfart
and I were both wanted in the house; and as Karl is breaking my poor
horse's legs at a distance, we sent no one to reconnoitre. Now we pay
for that sin of omission; we sit here prisoners, and our men are getting
tired before the enemy comes. It is essential that one of us should
mount and away to