was the signal of uncle
Petrowitsch's approach. Lenz nodded through the window, where he always
sat working; his uncle nodded in return and passed on. Lenz did not go
to his uncle's house, nor did his uncle come to him.

One day Petrowitsch stood still before Lenz's window, and Bueble seemed
to guess his master's thoughts, for though in general he only chased
Lenz's poultry as far as the garden, and was satisfied when they flew
cackling behind the hedge, and returned content to his master; still,
on this particular occasion, he chased the hens into the garden as far
as the house, where they took refuge with Franzl. Petrowitsch scolded
his dog angrily, and passed on, saying to himself, "Lenz must come to
me, why should I trouble myself about him? best let him alone. When any
man begins to feel an interest in another, all peace is at an end; for
then it is perpetually--Will he do this? will he do that. None of that
for me! Heaven be praised: I care for no man living." The thought now
recurred to him, that he had heard something about the wood.

On the day before the Landlady of the "Lion" had sat down beside him,
and after having talked on various matters she suddenly began to
congratulate Petrowitsch on taking his quiet walk every day; it kept
him in good health, and in this way he might live to be a hundred; in
fact he looked as if he would. She honestly hoped he might, he had
worked hard enough, and deserved rest and prosperity now. Petrowitsch
was shrewd enough to know that there was more than met the ear in all
this; he thought, and probably he was right, that the Landlady was so
particularly civil to him, because she had designs on his nephew; but
she did not say a word of this. She resumed the subject of his daily
walk, and said it would be an excellent plan if Petrowitsch would
purchase the fine Spannreuter wood at the Morgenhalde, from her
husband; he was by no means anxious to part with it, in fact she did
not know whether he could be persuaded to sell it at all, but she would
like to be the means of procuring for Petrowitsch, the great pleasure
of walking in his own wood, which would certainly be much more
satisfactory.

Petrowitsch thanked her for her singularly delicate attention, but
finally said he was quite as well pleased to walk in woods belonging to
other people; in fact, on the contrary, at present he had no cause for
irritation when he met people stealing the wood, and nothing was more
unwholesome