To the left, rising above a wall, were the barns and stables, which formed a large quadrangle about the yard. To the right, giant trees, a chaos of mazy, moss-green branches set with the golden-green buttons of the leaf buds. Inside the labyrinth the birds kept up a scandalous riot, which deafened one's ears as with a hail-storm of sounds. Straight ahead, about thirty paces away, rose the gable roof of an ancient one-story structure, which also bordered on the park wall and seemed to open in front on the yard. There at last a few mortals were to be seen. Two gentlemen, one with a round grey beard, the other stout, middle-aged and copper-coloured, were walking up and down the lawn at the back of the house smoking and conversing, while a third-- Who was that? The slim, sinewy young man with the high collar and light yellow gaiters, sitting at a window, pulling a red dog to his lap by a thin chain, that was--no, impossible!--yes, it was--it actually was--Walter von Prell! It was her merry friend, who had, so to speak, slunk off around the corner, the little lieutenant, famed as one utterly devoid of moral fibre--the only man that had ever kissed her mouth. Except the colonel, of course; but the colonel didn't count. There were the silvery white lids and the clinking bracelet and the mute laugh, which shook him like a storm each time the red dog with the pointed ears fell from his knees. The only change in him was that the close-cropped, velvety head of hair had been replaced by a somewhat unkempt growth shining with pomade. Lilly laughed aloud and stretched her arms to him. "Mr. von Prell! Mr. von Prell!" she was about to call out, but checked herself in time. No matter--now, she knew, she was no longer solitary in that strange world. Her merry friend was here, her comrade, her playmate, the man to whom she owed her good fortune. She remembered his having said, "The old man has taken a tremendous liking to me and wants me to run about his estate as Fritz Triddelfitz"--Lilly knew her Fritz Reuter well. Strange that in all these months it should not have occurred to the colonel to mention a word about Von Prell's being at Lischnitz. To be sure, he had seldom spoken of his estate. Even Miss von Schwertfeger cropped up in his mind only when he wished to reprimand his young wife. Perhaps he suspected it was Von Prell and no other who had discovered Lilly and brought her forth from concealment. However, she would tell the colonel and Miss von Schwertfeger without an hour's delay that she had met an old acquaintance. They need not be informed of the kiss. To what end? It had no more significance than a kiss in a game of forfeits. She slipped back into the bedroom, and a moment later, while she was drawing aside the window curtains, someone knocked at the door--three short, sharp, rapid taps, which seemed to probe to the marrow of her bones. It was Miss von Schwertfeger, of course. Who else would have frightened Lilly so?