ungary. There was a large brewery besides,
which supplied all the near-by cities and towns. The German noble, be he
king, duke, or baron, has always been more or less a merchant; and it
did not embarrass the grand duke of Ehrenstein in the least to see his
coat of arms burnt into oaken wine-casks.

A former steward had full charge of the business, personally hiring and
paying the help and supervising the various branches. He was a gruff old
fellow, just and honest; and once you entered his employ he was as much
a martinet as any captain at sea. The low cunning of the peasant never
eluded his watchful eye. He knew to the last pound of grapes how much
wine there should be, how much beer to the last measure of hops.

The entrance to the vineyards was made through a small lodge where the
ducal vintner lived, and kept his books and moneys till such time as he
should be required to place them before the proper official.

Upon this brave morning, the one following the ball at the palace, the
vintner was reclining against the outside wall of the gates, smoking his
china-pipe and generally at peace with the world. The bloom was early
upon the grape, work was begun, and the vintage promised to be
exceptionally fine. Through a drifting cloud of smoke he discerned a
solitary figure approaching from the direction of Dreiberg, a youthful
figure, buoyant of step, and confident. Herr Hoffman was rather
interested. Ordinarily the peasant who came to this gate had his hat in
his hand and his feet were laggard. Not so this youth. He paused at the
gate and inspected the old man highly.

"Herr Hoffman?"

"Yes."

"I want work."

"So? What can you do?" He was a clean youngster, this, but there was
something in his eyes that vaguely disturbed the head vintner. It was
like mockery more than anything else. The youth recounted his abilities,
and Hoffman was gracious enough to admit that he seemed to know what he
was talking about.

"I have a letter to you also."

"_Ach!_ We shall be properly introduced now," said Hoffman, growling.
"Let me see it."

He saw it, but with starting eyes. There was, then, something new under
the sun? A picker of grapes, recommended by a princess! He turned the
letter inside out, but found no illumination.

"_Du lieber Gott!_ You are Leopold Dietrich?"

"Yes, Herr."

"How did you come by this letter?"

"Her serene highness is patron to Gretchen, the goose-girl, at whose
request the recommendation was