Thus it happened that when Maulevrier was away from Fellside, no fair _châtelaine_ of the Middle Ages could be more ignorant of the movements or whereabouts of her crusader knight than Mary was of her brother's goings on. She could but pray for him with fond and faithful prayer, and wait and hope for his return. And now he told her that things had gone badly with him at Epsom, and worse at Ascot, that he had been, as he expressed it, 'up a tree,' and that he had gone off to the Black Forest directly the Ascot week was over, and at Rippoldsau he had met his old friend and fellow traveller, Hammond, and they had gone for a walking tour together among the homely villages, the watchmakers, the timber cutters, the pretty peasant girls. They had danced at fairs--and shot at village sports--and had altogether enjoyed the thing. Hammond, who was something of an artist, had sketched a good deal. Maulevrier had done nothing but smoke his German pipe and enjoy himself. 'I was glad to find myself in a world where a horse was an exception and not the rule,' he said. 'Oh, how I should love to see the Black Forest!' cried Mary, who knew the first part of Faust by heart, albeit she had never been given permission to read it, 'the gnomes and the witches--der Freischütz--all that is lovely. Of course, you went up the Brocken?' 'Of course,' answered Mr. Hammond; 'Mephistopheles was our _valet de place_, and we went up among a company of witches riding on broomsticks.' And then quoted, 'Seh' die Bäume hinter Bäumen, Wie sie schnell vorüberrücken, Und die Klippen, die sich bücken, Und die langen Felsennasen, Wie sie schnarchen, wie sie blasen!' This was the first time he had addressed himself directly to Mary, who sat close to her brother's side, and never took her eyes from his face, ready to pour out his wine or to change his plate, for the serving-men had been dismissed at the beginning of this unceremonious meal. Mary looked at the stranger almost as superciliously as Lesbia might have done. She was not inclined to be friendly to her brother's friend. 'Do you read German?' she inquired, with a touch of surprise. 'You had better ask him what language he does not read or speak,' said her brother. 'Hammond is an admirable Crichton, my dear--by-the-by, who was admirable Crichton?--knows everything, can twist your little head the right way upon any subject.' 'Oh,' thought Mary, 'highly cultivated, is he? Very proper in a man who was educated on charity to have worked his hardest at the University.'