The girl took her hand, and looked up gratefully, with tearful eyes. "And _you_ they call hard and severe!" was all that she could say. "Mild with the good, severe with the bad, Liuta. All that is under my care is the property of my husband, and the inheritance of my boy. Therefore I must be strict." Just then the old man and Athalwin appeared at the door. The boy wanted to call out, but the old man held his hand over his mouth, and, for a while, observed unremarked the actions of Rauthgundis as she examined the maids' work, praised, scolded, and arranged new tasks. "Yes," at last said the old man to himself, "she looks very stately, and seems to be mistress in the house--yet, who knows all!" And now it was no more possible to hold Athalwin back. "Mother!" he cried, "a strange man! who has bewitched Thursa, and climbed over the fence, and wants to come to thee! I cannot understand it!" The stately woman turned to the door with dignity, holding her hand over her eyes, to shade them from the dazzling evening sun, which shone full into the doorway. "Why dost thou lead the guest here? Thou knowest that thy father is not at home. Take him into the men's hall; his place is not here with me." "But it is, Rauthgundis! Here, with thee, is my place!" cried the old man, coming forward. "Father!" cried Rauthgundis, and threw herself into the stranger's arms. Puzzled, and not without displeasure, Athalwin looked on at this meeting. "So thou art grandfather, who lives up in the northern mountains? God be with thee, grandfather! But why didst thou not tell me at once? And why didst thou not come through the gate, like other honest folk?" The old man held his daughter by both hands, and looked inquiringly into her eyes. "She looks happy and blooming," he murmured to himself. Rauthgundis composed herself. She cast a quick look round the hall. All the spindles had ceased whirling--except Liuta's--all eyes were curiously fixed upon the old man. "Will you spin directly, curious girls!" cried Rauthgundis reprovingly. "Thou, Marcia, hast let the flax fell with thy staring; thou knowest the custom--thou wilt spin another spoolful. You others can leave your work. Come, father! Liuta, prepare a tepid bath, and meat and wine----" "No," said the old man; "the old peasant in the mountains has only the waterfall for bath and drink. And as to eating--outside the fence, near the boundary-stone, lies my knapsack; fetch it for me. There I have my wheaten bread and my sheep's-milk cheese.--What cattle hast thou in the stall, and horses in the pasture?" It was his first question. An hour after--it was already dark, and little Athalwin had gone to bed, shaking his head over his grandfather--father and daughter wandered into the open air in the light of the rising moon. "I have not air enough inside," the old man had said.