"If you were a nobleman, you should give me satisfaction; but as you are not, I warn you to be on your guard: I do not always travel without arms." He slightly touched his hat, turned upon his heel, and walked back by the way he had come. I stood as if rooted to the spot, and gazed after the slender figure, which soon vanished in the dark shadows of the forest. I knew that with a bound or two I could overtake him, but I felt not the slightest impulse to attempt it. The young prince had rightly judged the young plebeian. I would as lief have hewn off my hand as to raise it again against a man whom I had in a manner pardoned. And then I thought of what Granow had said, that were he the prince, he would not like to meet Herr von Zehren, and how very nearly this meeting had taken place, and that too at a moment when it would have given the Wild Zehren delight to shed his enemy's blood, and his own afterwards. And now I heard a slight neigh, and then the gallop of a horse. "Thank heaven!" I cried, drawing a deep breath, "it is better so, and it will be a lesson to him." I thought no more of the buck. I scarcely listened when he began to bellow, at no great distance from me. I hurried on at a run to make up for the time I had lost, and in deep anxiety lest Herr von Zehren should have heard the gallop of the horse, for it was not possible that he could have heard anything that had happened in the wood. But my anxiety was without cause. The Wild Zehren was too safely plunged in reflections over his misfortune for his senses to be as acute as they usually were. He did not even ask me about the buck; and I was glad that I was under no necessity of speaking. Thus we walked silently on until we reached the castle. In the hall we were met as usual by the sleepless old Christian. Letters had come by express: he had laid them on his master's writing-table. "Come in," said Herr von Zehren, "while I see what they are about." We entered. "This one is for you, and so is this," he said, handing me two of the letters from the table. The first letter was from my friend Arthur. It read: "You have not sent me the money I asked you for; but that is the way: when we have anything, our friends may look out for themselves. I only write to you now, in order through you to entreat my uncle to do something to help papa. Our affairs must be in an awful state, for the merchant G.--you know whom I mean--from whom I borrowed twenty-five, saw papa about it to-day, and I did not get the smallest scolding. Mamma howls all day long. I wish I was a thousand miles away. "P. S.--Papa has just come from Uncle Commerzienrath with a terribly long face. It is plain that the old Philistine will do nothing for us. I tell you Uncle Malte must help us, for we are in a terrible strait." The second letter was from my father.