I did not tire following the movements of his arms. I admired his strength and trembled for him when the sparks flew about his body. The two hours went by unnoticed, and in the midst of my dreamy meditations I was surprised by my brother coming to call for me. "Well, did it seem a long time?" my brother asked gaily. I shook my head, smiling, and tried to get up, but sank back wearily. "Hm, hm," said my brother, reflecting. "I didn't bring the coachman back, thinking I could carry you to the carriage by myself, but the seat is high, and I couldn't get you up without hurting you. See here, Grete,"--he turned to my little companion, who had come running at the sound of the carriage--"you go run down to the smith, the young one, you know, and tell him he should come and help me here." He tossed a penny on the ground and the little maid, radiant with delight, picked it up before going for the smith. I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. I was to see him again, here, on this spot. He was to act the Samaritan to me. I sat there waiting, my hand pressed to my pounding heart, until--until---- There he was coming! Yes, that was he! How strong, how handsome he had grown to be! Heavy flaxen hair about his smoke-blackened face, and a thick growth of light down around his powerful chin. Young Siegfried must have looked like that while serving his apprenticeship with the wicked Mime. He clutched awkwardly at his little cap, tipped back on his neck so jauntily, while I held out my hand smiling and said, "How do you do?" "Very well," he replied with an embarrassed laugh, and carefully wiped his grimy fingers on his leather apron before taking my hand. "Help me lift the lady into the carriage," said my brother. He wiped his hands again, and caught hold of me--none too gently--under the armpits, and the two of them, my brother taking me by my feet, lifted me up on to the carriage cushions. "Thanks, thanks," I said and gave him a smile. He stood at the carriage door, shyly twisting his cap and looking from one to the other of us uncertainly. "He still has something on his heart," I said to myself. "Why not? At the sight of me old memories have been awakened. He wants to talk to me of the blissful days when in childish innocence we watched the geese together. Ah, he doesn't trust himself--his lord's presence--I ought to come to his assistance a little." "Well," I said, giving him a friendly, encouraging look straight in his eyes, "what are you thinking of?" My brother at this turned from his horses, with which he had been busy, and said, thrusting his hand into his pocket: "Oh, you're waiting for your tip." I felt as though some one had struck me in the face. "For goodness' sake, Max," I stammered, my blood going hot and cold. But my brother did not hear me and handed him--actually dared to--a dime.