Otto: "You are!"

"Ah, well, that's what they all said of you," moralised the girl; "such
a tongue to come round--such a flattering tongue!"

"O, you forget, I am a man of middle age," the Prince chuckled.

"Well, to speak to you, I should think you was a boy; and Prince or no
Prince, if you came worrying where I was cooking, I would pin a napkin
to your tails.... And, O Lord, I declare I hope your Highness will
forgive me," the girl added. "I can't keep it in my mind."

"No more can I," cried Otto. "That is just what they complain of!"

They made a loverly-looking couple; only the heavy pouring of that
horse-tail of water made them raise their voices above lovers' pitch.
But to a jealous onlooker from above, their mirth and close proximity
might easily give umbrage; and a rough voice out of a tuft of brambles
began calling on Ottilia by name. She changed colour at that. "It is
Fritz," she said. "I must go."

"Go, my dear, and I need not bid you go in peace, for I think you have
discovered that I am not formidable at close quarters," said the Prince,
and made her a fine gesture of dismissal.

So Ottilia skipped up the bank, and disappeared into the thicket,
stopping once for a single blushing bob--blushing, because she had in
the interval once more forgotten and remembered the stranger's quality.

Otto returned to his rock promontory; but his humour had in the meantime
changed. The sun now shone more fairly on the pool; and over its brown,
welling surface, the blue of heaven and the golden green of the spring
foliage danced in fleeting arabesque. The eddies laughed and brightened
with essential colour. And the beauty of the dell began to rankle in the
Prince's mind; it was so near to his own borders, yet without. He had
never had much of the joy of possessorship in any of the thousand and
one beautiful and curious things that were his; and now he was conscious
of envy for what was another's. It was, indeed, a smiling, dilettante
sort of envy; but yet there it was: the passion of Ahab for the
vineyard, done in little; and he was relieved when Mr. Killian appeared
upon the scene.

"I hope, sir, that you have slept well under my plain roof," said the
old farmer.

"I am admiring this sweet spot that you are privileged to dwell in,"
replied Otto, evading the inquiry.

"It is rustic," returned Mr. Gottesheim, looking around him with
complacency, "a very rustic corner; and some of the land to the west is
most exc