"With your leave, if you're no spirit-- And that seems to me unlikely. As you've just enjoyed your breakfast-- Then the Baron sends you greeting, And invites you to his castle. I will take you there with pleasure." Thus he spoke. Young Werner listened, Half astonished, and went with him. Smirking, thought the cunning landlord: "You will get it, my young master; You believed you had full freedom Thus to rove about the river, Spying out long-buried treasures. But the Baron found you out soon, And will stop your bold proceedings. Now you'll get it, when he treats you, From his amply-furnished stores, to Some of his well-seasoned curses. Like a top your head will spin then, And your ears buzz like a beehive. But this will concern you solely. If he keep you in a dungeon Of your horse I'll take possession; It will well score off your reckoning." Once more in the hall together Were the Baron and his daughter, And again he smoked his pipe there, When the ponderous folding-doors were Opened, and, with modest reverence, Werner entered. "If you only," Said the faithful Anton, "only Knew, your gracious lordship, what a Heavy task it was to find him!" Keenly did the Baron's eyes rest On young Werner, passing muster; By her father, lightly leaning On his arm-chair, Margaretta Bashfully looked at the stranger, And with both the first impression Of each other was most happy. "It is you, then," said the Baron, "Who last night have startled us here With your trumpet-blowing, therefore I should like to speak to you now." "This commences well," thought Werner, And, embarrassed, cast his eyes down To the ground. But the old Baron, Kindly smiling, thus continued: "You believe, perhaps, I shall now Call you to account for having Made loud music near the castle? You are wrong, 'tis not my business; For no license is here needed On the Rhine; if anybody Wants to catch a cold by playing Late at night there, he may do so. No, I only wish to ask you, Whether you would like here often As last night to blow the trumpet? But I fear I am mistaken. You are not by trade a player, May be one of those damned scribblers, Secretary to a foreign Embassy, as many are now Coaching all about the country, Just to spoil all that the soldier's Ready sword had once accomplished?" "Not bad either," thought young Werner; Still he liked the Baron's manner. "I am no professional player," Said he, "and still less a scribbler. As for my part, all the inkstands In the Holy Roman Empire Might dry up without my caring. I am not in any service,