f her understanding or her virtue. But he
could not help feeling a certain respect for her as she had just shown
herself to him.

"She knows what she wants, at all events," he growled, "and won't allow
herself to be deceived, not even by her own poor heart. There is good
blood in the little red fox."

Upon returning to Schoepf he exerted himself to the utmost to convince
the old gentleman that, for the present, it was useless to try and do
anything. But he promised to do his best to reconcile the girl to the
thought that she could no longer be her own mistress, but must consent
to be taken under the protection of a loving grandfather. It touched
him to see how much the old man was encouraged and cheered by the
thought that she would come to him in the end. He even began to make
plans for the external arrangements of their future life together. As
if this were a matter that would not brook the slightest delay, he
could not be prevailed upon to stay even until the heat of the day was
over. He must go back at once and look for larger and more cheerful
lodgings, and must buy some furniture, so that he would be prepared to
receive his grandchild just as soon as she felt like coming to live
with him. Besides, he did not want to be the cause of the poor child's
wandering about in the woods any longer, for it was clear she would not
enter the house again until he had gone.

Schnetz accompanied him through the park. When they were almost at the
gate he asked:

"Don't you propose to take any steps to find out the whereabouts of the
child's father? Or do you know that he has died since all this
happened?"

The old man stood still, and his eyes took on that stern expression
which had scared off Zenz that night in the street.

"The scoundrel!" he cried in a loud voice, passionately striking the
gravel path with the umbrella that he always carried in summer. "The
miserable, perjured villain! Can you seriously suppose that I would let
myself be outdone in pride by my dead daughter, who would have nothing
to do with the author of all her misery, since he appeared to have
forgotten her? Do you think me capable of such a thing as sharing this
living legacy of my daughter, that I have just found again as if by a
miracle, with that robber of women's honor--admitting even that he
would not now choose to deny all share in it? I would rather--"

"My good Herr Schoepf," coolly interrupted Schnetz, "in spite of your
white hairs, you ar