Were they happy? The rapid movement and the fresh morning air had brought a tinge of color to the lady's pale face which was very becoming to her. The Graefin Jadwiga looked bright and sweet that day, and really happy. Her companion did not look either so cheerful or so happy as she did. He was a young man with fair hair, the stature of a giant, and the heart of a child. Scandal-mongers even went so far as to say that he was like a child in intellect also. But however that may be, it is true that Baron Starsky loved Graefin Jadwiga with all the intensity of _first_ love, as he used to call it, when he forgot that he had once talked "love" to his mother's pretty little French maid. But that was long ago--fully six months ago. He was very rich, his estates adjoined those of the Graefin, but he would have loved her even had this not been the case. He wanted to have told her all this during that morning's ride, and to have asked her to be his wife; but he had had no opportunity. Who could make an offer to a woman when riding at a hand-gallop? At length Graefin Jadwiga grew tired of what Baron Starsky inwardly called the "mad pace" at which she had been going. The horses panted as they returned toward the town at a walk; but, strangely enough, the palpitation which Starsky had before ascribed to the quickness of the pace at which he had been riding, did not in the least diminish. It grew worse. The moment for speaking had come, and he hesitated whether or not to seize it. He began to talk about the weather, like the good, stupid, loving giant that he was. He expatiated on the beauty of the spring, and although as a general rule he cared little or nothing for flowers, he now told Graefin Jadwiga a great many wonderful things about them. The pauses in their conversation grew longer and longer. At last he saw with terror that he could not keep up this kind of small-talk much longer. It was as though he had been suddenly relieved of a burden too heavy to be borne, when the Graefin suddenly reined in her horse, and asked, "What can that curious dark figure down there in the meadow be?" Baron Starsky put up his eye-glass in order to see better. "It's a Jew, Graefin," he said. "But look! he has got something shining in his hand--a zinc box of some kind. What the deuce is he doing with it?" "Let us ask him." So saying, the Graefin leaped the ditch into the meadow, and Starsky of course followed her. The Jew started as though he would have run away, but changing his mind, he waited quietly until the riders approached him. His whole manner showed how timid he was and how little at his ease. "What are you doing there?" asked Graefin Jadwiga. "I am collecting medicinal herbs for my sick people," he replied in pure German. "You're a doctor!" she inquired in surprise. "That's a strange calling for a tradesman or a Talmudist--and you Jews are all either the one or the other--to pursue in addition to your other work...."