on to rise and go home: the large clock in
the room struck loudly, and in a warning tone, its weights rolling down
angrily, but Lenz did not hear them. The Landlord walked up and down
the room with creaking boots, but Lenz took no notice of them. It had
never yet occurred that any one should act as if the Landlord was not
in the room. He struck his repeater loudly, but Lenz did not appear to
notice it; at last--the Landlord is not a man to stand on ceremony with
any one--he spoke out: "Lenz, if you choose to stay here all night, I
will have a room prepared for you."

Lenz started, and gave Annele his hand; he would gladly have done the
same to the Landlord, but that is a liberty no man ventures to take,
unless that potentate first offers his. Lenz walked home in silence,
and buried in thought.

CHAPTER XIII.
LION, FOX, AND MAGPIE.

In the first winter months, as well as in those of early spring, no
spot in the whole country was so beautiful as the Morgenhalde. Old Lenz
was quite right; the mornings sun shone on it during half the day, and
stoves were not much required. In the small garden behind the house,
flowers were still blooming, when everywhere else no more were to be
seen; and they sprung up there, too, when every other place was barren.
This garden, however, was as much sheltered as a room, and, which is
very rare in this country, a sweet-chesnut tree stood here, to which,
however, the squirrels and woodpeckers in the neighbouring wood paid
many unwelcome visits. The garden was sheltered by the house on one
side, without being deprived by it, however, of the sun, after ten
o'clock; and the large wood, which clothed the steep hill behind the
house, seemed particularly to rejoice in the garden, two of its finest
firs standing at the entrance.

If there had been many people who liked walking in the cold early
winter months, they would certainly have crossed the meadow, gone
through the wood, and taken the path to Lenz's house, and then returned
by the crest of the mountain. There was, however, only one habitual
pedestrian in the village, or rather we may say two, namely,
Petrowitsch and his dog Bueble. Every day before dinner, Petrowitsch
ensured a good appetite by following the path along the meadow, past
the house, and over the hill.

Bueble took double and triple exercise, by jumping backwards and
forwards over all the little stony channels on