"Why so savage, Fraeulein?" said a mocking voice behind her. Lenore
started and turned round. Fink, who had been absent more than a week,
had joined them. "See that you send off Blasius," said he to Anton,
without taking any further notice of Lenore. "The rascal has been drunk
again; he flogs the horses till the poor beasts are covered with wales.
I have a great mind to give them the satisfaction of seeing him punished
before their eyes."

"Have patience till after the harvest," replied Anton; "we can not spare
him now."

"Is he not a good-natured man in other respects?" timidly suggested
Lenore.

"Good-nature is a convenient name for every thing that is morbid,"
replied Fink. "We call it good-nature in men and sensibility in women."
He looked at Lenore. "How has the poor pony sinned, that you will never
ride him more?"

Lenore blushed as she replied, "I find that riding gives me headache."

"Indeed!" said Fink, tauntingly; "you once had the advantage of being
less delicate. I do not think this lachrymose mood is suitable for you;
you will not lose your headache thus."

Lenore, quite subdued, turned to Anton: "Have the newspapers arrived? I
came to ask for them for my father."

"The footman has taken them to the baroness's room."

Lenore turned away with a slight inclination, and went back to the
castle.

Fink looked after her and said to Anton, "Black does not become her; she
is much faded. Hers is one of those faces which only please when they
are full and blooming."

Anton cast a dark glance at his friend. "Your behavior toward her has
been so strange for the last few weeks, that I have often felt indignant
at it. I do not know what your purpose may be, but you treat her with a
<i>nonchalance</i> which does not offend her alone."

"But you too, Master Wohlfart, eh?" asked Fink, looking Anton full in
the face. "I was not aware that you were this lady's duenna too."

"This tone will not avail you," replied Anton, more quietly. "I do right
to remind you that you are behaving worse than ungently toward a noble
creature who has now a double claim upon the tender consideration of us
all."

"Be good enough to pay her that consideration yourself, and don't
trouble yourself about me and my manner," returned Fink, dryly.

"Fritz," cried Anton, "I do not understand you. It is true, you are
inconsiderate."

"Have you found me so?" interpolated Fink.

"No," replied Anton. "Whatever you have been to others, to