He springs off his horse, and without a word holds out his hand. I place my foot on it, and suffer myself to be lifted on to the saddle, and to have the folds of my habit straightened, without the slightest idea of whether he has an inkling of what has happened. Then, drawing out his handkerchief, he begins to wipe me down, and now for the first time I perceive that I am covered with mud from head to foot. You may imagine my feelings. Well! this done, the count tucks his handkerchief into his breast pocket and mounts again, and, giving Harras a taste of my whip, I jump him five times backward and forward over the ditch; not where it was dry and narrow, but further on, where it broadens and is full of water. Then we rode quietly along to meet papa. It was a long time before I could persuade myself to speak; yet it had to be, if I were not to feel uncomfortable all the rest of the day. So at last I said: “Please do not tell a soul of my fall.” Smiling, he answered, “I give you my word that I will not betray you.” So for a moment we were good friends, and I absolutely began to think whether I would not have him after all. But it did not last long, and now I think him simply detestable. My dear child, he is nothing but a pedantic old German schoolmaster. Just listen. On our way to the stables I suddenly heard a rustling and crackling, and among the bushes espied a pair of little bare feet. “A wood stealer!” cried I. “Hullo, I must see to that. I’ll catch the young rascal!” And with a look at the count to keep still, I jumped off my horse and ran to the opening made by the little scamp. True enough, in a very short time out crawls my man, dragging a whole bundle of fagots after him. He looks up, sees me, screeches like a hare, and scampers off as fast as his legs will carry him toward the village. I fly after him; of course soon catch him up; stop, pull off his cap, and tell him if he wants it again he must come to the castle and fetch it. Where-upon he whimpers the usual tale; begs, entreats, kneels to me, until I have enough of it, and throw him back his cap. And then what do you think he did? With a grimace at me, he had the impudence to pick up the bundle of fagots and make off. I was on the point of going after him, to give it him hot and strong, when up rides the count with a face as long as my arm, and has the impertinence to say to me: “You make an excellent ranger!” “Is it not customary with you to protect your woods against wood stealers?” I ask. “Oh, undoubtedly,” he makes reply, “but we prefer to leave that somewhat subordinate occupation to our foresters.” When I think it over calmly the answer in itself does not appear so exasperating; but the way he looked at me as he said it, making me feel so uncommonly small. Your MUSCHI.