"Ach! one of those men who tell such dreadful stories about kings and princes? Who cause men to go to war with each other? Who rouse the ignorant to deeds of violence? One of those men who are more powerful than a king, because they can undo him?" She drew away from me. "Hold on!" I cried, dropping the hoe; "what do you know about it?" "Enough," sadly. "I read the papers. I always look with fear upon one of those men who can do so much good, and yet who would do so much evil." I had never looked at it in that light before. "It seems to me, Gretchen," I said quietly, "that you are about as much a barmaid as I am a weeder of knoblauches." The color of excitement fled from Gretchen's cheeks, her eyes grew troubled and she looked away. "Gretchen has a secret," said I. "It is nothing to me what Gretchen's secret is; I shall respect it, and continue to think of her only as a barmaid with--with a superior education." I shouldered the hoe. "Come, let us go back; I'm thirsty." "Thank you, Herr," was the soft reply. Then Gretchen became as dumb, and our return to the inn was made in silence. Once there, however, she recovered. "I am sorry to have put you at such a disadvantage," glancing at my clothes, which were covered with brown earth. "Let that be the least of your troubles!" I cried gayly. Then I hummed in English: So, ho! dear Gretchen, winsome lass, I want no tricky wine, But amber nectar bring to me, Whose rich bouquet will cling to me, Whose spirit voice will sing to me From out the mug divine So, here's your toll--a kiss--away, You Hebe of the Rhine! No goblet's gold means cheer to me, Let no cut glass get near to me-- Go, Gretchen, haste the beer to me, And put it in the stein! I thought I saw a smile on her lips, but it was gone before I was certain. "Gott in Himmel!" gasped the astonished innkeeper, as I went into the barroom. I still had the hoe over my shoulder. "Never mind, mein host. I've been weeding your knoblauch patch as a method of killing time." "But--" He looked at Gretchen in dismay. "It was I who led him there," said Gretchen, in answer to his inquiring eyes. A significant glance passed between them. There was a question in his, a command in hers. I pretended to be examining the faded tints in the stein I held in my hand. I was thinking: "Since when has an innkeeper waited on the wishes of his barmaid?" There was a mystery after all. CHAPTER IX