really tiresome for a remarkably good and
trained pedestrian like her husband to have to adapt his vigorous steps
to ours. And comfort came from an unexpected quarter. The old peasant
woman, strong and muscular as any English labourer, whom we had hired
at Seeberg to carry our bags and shawls through the forest, overheard
the discussion, and for the first time broke silence to assure "the
gracious ladies" that Silberbach was at no great distance; in half an
hour or so we should come upon the first of its houses.

"Though as for the 'Katze,'" she added, "that was farther off--at the
other end of the village;" and she went on muttering something about "if
she had known we were going to the 'Katze,'" which we did not understand,
but which afterwards, "being translated," proved to mean that she would
have stood out for more pay.

Sure enough, at the end of not more than three-quarters of an hour we
came upon one or two outlying houses. Then the trees gradually here grew
sparser, and soon ceased, except in occasional patches. It was growing
dusk; but as we emerged from the wood we found that we were on a height,
the forest road having been a steady, though almost imperceptible, ascent.
Far below gleamed already some twinkling cottage lights, and the silvery
reflection of a small piece of water.

"To be sure," said young von Trachenfels, "there is a lake at Silberbach.
Here we are at last! But where is the 'Katze'?"

He might well ask. Never was there so tantalising a place as Silberbach.
Instead of one compact, sensible village, it was more like three or
four--nay, five or six--wretched hamlets, each at several minutes'
distance from all the others. And the "Katze," of course, was at the
farther end of the farthest off from where we stood of these miserable
little ragged ends of village! Climbing is tiring work, but it seemed
to me it would have been preferable to what lay before us,--a continual
descent, by the ruggedest of hill-paths, of nearly two miles, stumbling
along in the half light, tired, footsore past description, yet--to
our everlasting credit be it recorded--laughing, or trying to laugh,
determined at all costs to make the best of it.

"I have no feet left," said poor Frau von Walden. "I am only conscious
of two red-hot balls attached somehow to my ankles. I daresay _they_
will drop off soon."

How thankful we were at last to attain to what bore some faint
resemblance to a village street! How we gazed on