The next minute she was galloping at his side along the grassy wood path, where no Argus eyes could follow her, in utter abandon, inwardly exulting and eagerly expectant of mad pranks to be played. Von Prell, for his part, seemed indisposed to avail himself of his unhoped for liberty. He held his eyes fixed on the road in front, every now and then caught at her reins, regulated the length of the stirrup, and made her sit better in the saddle. He was the riding master, nothing else. "How's Tommy?" she asked at length, bored. "Tommy sends his regards," he replied, without removing his gaze from the road, "and says we'd better pay attention to nothing but the horses to-day, because if something should happen we'd never be allowed to go out again." "And I send my regards to Tommy, and tell him he's a goose." "I will without fail," he rejoined, and nodded his riding crop. They now entered a grove of birch trees, where the ground was somewhat boggy and demanded added attention. But Lilly had eyes for nothing but the silvery gleam of the trunks and the golden webs which quivered in the wind and floated down on her cheeks. "Oh, see how beautiful!" she said with a blissful sigh. "Walk your horse, please." A demon took possession of Lilly. Touching her horse with her crop she went off in a mad gallop that was contrary to all the rules and regulations of horseback riding. The next instant, however, Von Prell was at her side gripping her reins and pulling up both horses. They looked at each other with flashing eyes. Lilly felt she had to throw herself over toward him just to be nearer to him. "Say, Lilly, what do you mean by that?" he hissed. She started and showed her white teeth. "Say, Walter, what do you mean by that?" she retorted. They turned the horses' heads and rode back home slowly, in silence, without looking at each other. CHAPTER XIX The threshing machine had been singing its autumn song for many a day. Its monotonous whirr could be heard far beyond the castle court. It carried no message of golden blessings or glowing crystallised sunlight. From morning till late at night it moaned and howled like an æolian harp in stormbeaten branches; and sometimes soft, long-drawn cries burst from its entrails, as if the sheaves it was torturing and tearing had been endowed with speech. So much dreamy bliss dwelt again in Lilly's soul that she got nothing but allurement and yearning from this music, which entirely obsessed her in her morning slumber and kept her lying in bed a long time in a drowsy half-sleep the better to listen to its even, unvarying singsong. All the while she thought of him.