"You're a bit of a heretic, I fear," said Lenora gravely. "You have been too long at Geneva." "Well, certainly, this saint of yours seems to have rather an incredible legend. Your mother tells me, she was a famous opera-dancer some thousand years or so ago, and was so persecuted by the admiration her personal charms called forth, that she prayed she might be made less attractive. On which, rather to her dismay, a beard began to sprout from her chin, accompanied by a very bushy moustache over her upper lip, which effectually extinguished the ardour of her lovers; and though she has been dead so many years, the beard continues to grow to this day!" "Well, and what of that?" cried the old woman. Karl smiled; but the entrance of Franz caused a change in the subject of conversation. [Illustration] [Illustration] CHAPTER XII. BERG ISEL. What a horrible place is Halle! Enveloped in a dense atmosphere of smoke, the sunbeams vainly endeavour to pour more than a sombre light into the sooty streets, in which houses, people, and everything else, have, unavoidably, an air of griminess inseparable from a large manufacturing town; and the amusing spectacle is too often seen of some honest fellow walking along in the mistaken belief of having a clean face, while, all the time, a black has settled on his nose. It was towards the close of the merry month of May. The struggle at Berg Isel had taken place on the 26th, and on the following day a man was to be seen rapidly skirting the mountains that bound Halle to the north, along the edge of a ravine, in the depths of which brawled an impetuous torrent. His green coat and red sash might have been those of any Tyrolese; but his dark beard showed him to be no other than Hofer. He stepped out, mile after mile, along the steep path towards the famous salt-mines. Huge masses of rock, hanging over his head, seemed suspended by little short of a miracle; dark pine-forests clothed the rugged cliffs, cascades dashed from innumerable heights, some close by the path, others heard thundering above; the foaming torrent was here and there spanned by bridges of snow, while huge, unmelted avalanches lay in its bed. As Hofer proceeded, he came up with a tall, dark, athletic man, going towards the mines. When he got close to him, he grasped his shoulder. The man started, turned round, and joyfully embraced him. "Praised be the name of our Lord!" said he. "Amen, and Amen!" said Hofer, raising his hat. "Brother, what a dance you have led me! They told me in Halle you had just delivered a load of wood, and I should find you here. But what? can you spare leisure to carry wood in these times?" "A contract must be fulfilled," said Speckbacher. "I contracted, before the war broke out, to supply the works with a certain quantity of wood in a certain time. This has been my last journey, I am happy to say--my man Zoppel will drive the oxen after to-day, and the contract expires within a week."