"We went through the garden into the court-yard, and through it and the great gates into the forest, on the road to Berkow. When we had gone a few hundred yards, a man came to meet us. 'It is he,' said Marie; 'you must leave me now, Mother Claus; I have promised him to come alone, and not to tell anybody that I am going.'--'You ought not to have promised that, child; I think I have a right to know what is to become of you.' "In the mean time the man had come near, 'Is that you, Marie?' he said. 'Why do you not come alone?'--'Because I did not let her,' I said, 'and because I shall not let her go until I know what is to become of her.'--'She is in God's care and under the protection of a friend,' said the man. His words sounded so truthful and safe, that all my anxiety vanished in a moment. "The moon peeped forth from the clouds, and I could see the man, who was now walking by our side, more distinctly. He was small, and not very young, and had a hooked nose, like the Jew of the day before. He had on a long overcoat, and when the wind blew it open I noticed by the light of the moon the muzzle of a pistol, which he wore in a belt around his waist. "A few yards farther, a carriage with two horses was standing. 'It is high time,' said the man on the box. He spoke Low German, and I thought I knew his voice. 'Quick, quick,' said the man with the spectacles, and drew Marie to the step, which had been let down. 'Good-by, good-by,' she sobbed, embracing me once more; and as her head was resting for a moment on my shoulder, she whispered in my ear: 'Tell him I have forgiven all, all!'--'Quick, quick! Marie,' exclaimed the man impatiently, stamping with his foot, and helped her into the carriage; then he turned to me: 'If you really love the unfortunate girl,' he said, 'keep this secret for forty-eight hours. I am prepared for everything, but I should wish for Marie's sake that we should have no use for this;' and he struck his hand upon the pistol.--'Rely on me,' I said, 'and I will rely on you.'--'You can do that safely,' he replied; 'all men are not scoundrels and barons.' "He jumped into the carriage and closed the door. The horses started, and already, a few minutes later, I heard nothing but the wind in the pine-trees. "I walked slowly back to the castle, and reached my room without having been seen by anybody. I locked myself in; then I threw myself on my bed and wept as if a dear child of mine had died; and yet I was happy, and thanked God that he had taken pity on the poor child and rescued her from this hell.