Otto returned to his rock promontory; but his humour had in the
meantime changed. The sun now shone more fairly on the pool; and
over its brown, welling surface, the blue of heaven and the golden
green of the spring foliage danced in fleeting arabesque. The
eddies laughed and brightened with essential colour. And the beauty
of the dell began to rankle in the Prince's mind; it was so near to
his own borders, yet without. He had never had much of the joy of
possessorship in any of the thousand and one beautiful and curious
things that were his; and now he was conscious of envy for what was
another's. It was, indeed, a smiling, dilettante sort of envy; but
yet there it was: the passion of Ahab for the vineyard, done in
little; and he was relieved when Mr. Killian appeared upon the
scene.

'I hope, sir, that you have slept well under my plain roof,' said
the old farmer.

'I am admiring this sweet spot that you are privileged to dwell in,'
replied Otto, evading the inquiry.

'It is rustic,' returned Mr. Gottesheim, looking around him with
complacency, 'a very rustic corner; and some of the land to the west
is most excellent fat land, excellent deep soil. You should see my
wheat in the ten-acre field. There is not a farm in Grunewald, no,
nor many in Gerolstein, to match the River Farm. Some sixty - I
keep thinking when I sow - some sixty, and some seventy, and some an
hundredfold; and my own place, six score! But that, sir, is partly
the farming.'

'And the stream has fish?' asked Otto.