six already, and the road is long and lonely.'

'_Ach_,' groaned Gertrud, who never walks.

'Perhaps a cart will pass us and give us a lift. If not we'll walk to
that village with the church over there and see if we can get something
on wheels to pursue August with. Come on--I hope your boots are all
right.'

'_Ach_,' groaned Gertrud again, lifting up one foot, as a dog pitifully
lifts up its wounded paw, and showing me a black cashmere boot of the
sort that is soft and pleasant to the feet of servants who are not
required to use them much.

'I'm afraid they're not much good on this hard road,' I said. 'Let us
hope something will catch us up soon.'

'_Ach_,' groaned poor Gertrud, whose feet are very tender.

But nothing did catch us up, and we trudged along in grim silence, the
desire to laugh all gone.

'You must, my dear Gertrud,' I said after a while, seeking to be
cheerful, 'regard this in the light of healthful exercise. You and I are
taking a pleasant afternoon walk together in Ruegen.'

Gertrud said nothing; at all times loathing movement out of doors she
felt that this walking was peculiarly hateful because it had no visible
end. And what would become of us if we were forced to spend the night in
some inn without our luggage? The only thing I had with me was my purse,
the presence of which, containing as it did all the money I had brought,
caused me to cast a careful eye at short intervals behind me, less in
the hope of seeing a cart than in the fear of seeing a tramp; and the
only thing Gertrud had was her half-knitted stocking. Also we had had
nothing to eat but a scrappy tea-basket lunch hours before in the train,
and my intention had been to have food at Putbus and then drive down to
a place called Lauterbach, which being on the seashore was more
convenient for the jelly-fish than Putbus, and spend the night there in
an hotel much recommended by the guide-book. By this time according to
my plans we ought to have been sitting in Putbus eating
_Kalbsschnitzel_. 'Gertrud,' I asked rather faintly, my soul drooping
within me at the thought of the _Kalbsschnitzel_, 'are you hungry?'

Gertrud sighed. 'It is long since we ate,' she said.

We trudged on in silence for another five minutes.

'Gertrud,' I asked again, for during those five minutes my thoughts had
dwelt with a shameful persistency on the succulent and the gross, 'are
you _very_ hungry?'

'The gracious one too must be in need of food,' evad