somewhat feebly cheered as he rode by. But from that time forth and
for a long while he was alone with the great woods.

Gradually the spell of pleasure relaxed; his own thoughts returned,
like stinging insects, in a cloud; and the talk of the night before,
like a shower of buffets, fell upon his memory. He looked east and
west for any comforter; and presently he was aware of a cross-road
coming steeply down hill, and a horseman cautiously descending. A
human voice or presence, like a spring in the desert, was now
welcome in itself, and Otto drew bridle to await the coming of this
stranger. He proved to be a very red-faced, thick-lipped
countryman, with a pair of fat saddle-bags and a stone bottle at his
waist; who, as soon as the Prince hailed him, jovially, if somewhat
thickly, answered. At the same time he gave a beery yaw in the
saddle. It was clear his bottle was no longer full.

'Do you ride towards Mittwalden?' asked the Prince.

'As far as the cross-road to Tannenbrunn,' the man replied. 'Will
you bear company?'

'With pleasure. I have even waited for you on the chance,' answered
Otto.

By this time they were close alongside; and the man, with the
countryfolk instinct, turned his cloudy vision first of all on his
companion's mount. 'The devil!' he cried. 'You ride a bonny mare,
friend!' And then, his curiosity being satisfied about the
essential, he turned his attention to that merely secondary matter,
his companion's face. He started. 'The Prince!' he cried,