The hour,
the season, and the scene, all were in delicate accordance. The air
was full of birds of passage, steering westward and northward over
Grunewald, an army of specks to the up-looking eye. And below, the
great practicable road was bound for the same quarter.
But to the two horsemen on the knoll this spiritual ditty was
unheard. They were, indeed, in some concern of mind, scanning every
fold of the subjacent forest, and betraying both anger and dismay in
their impatient gestures.
'I do not see him, Kuno,' said the first huntsman, 'nowhere - not a
trace, not a hair of the mare's tail! No, sir, he's off; broke
cover and got away. Why, for twopence I would hunt him with the
dogs!'
'Mayhap, he's gone home,' said Kuno, but without conviction.
'Home!' sneered the other. 'I give him twelve days to get home.
No, it's begun again; it's as it was three years ago, before he
married; a disgrace! Hereditary prince, hereditary fool! There
goes the government over the borders on a grey mare. What's that?
No, nothing - no, I tell you, on my word, I set more store by a good
gelding or an English dog. That for your Otto!'
'He's not my Otto,' growled Kuno.
'Then I don't know whose he is,' was the retort.
'You would put your hand in the fire for him to-morrow,' said Kuno,
facing round.
'Me!' cried the huntsman. 'I would see him hanged! I'm a Grunewald
patriot - enrolled, and have my medal, too; and I would help a
prince! I'm for liberty and Gondremark.
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