d next, how in the world, if the Herr Student,
who had so suddenly appeared on the scene, were here with two friends,
we could all return in the gig?

Nor did this dilemma seem likely to decrease when we spied in the
far distant windings of the road, dotted over with the receding black
groups of priests and their supporters, a moving object approaching
in our direction bearing unmistakable resemblance to the gig and
broad-backed horse, but with a female figure seated behind Anton--a
perplexity which grew greater when, the distance becoming less,
the figure assumed a still more elegant form, holding a fashionable
sunshade in her hand, which suddenly began to wave persistently in our
direction.

Who could it be? We imagined, we hoped, we doubted, until ten minutes
later our astonishment ended in a joyous reality as we clasped in our
arms our dear, friend E----. She had arrived in our absence on a visit
to us at the Hof, and the good family, desirous of affording us a
joyful surprise, had proposed that Anton should drive her over to meet
us at Nieder Olang. The Herr Student was in the secret. This had made
him prudently cut our conversation short and return to his friends in
the inn.

E---- brought bouquets of flowers for us from the aunt and Moidel,
but there was no reason for us to hurry back: there were still several
hours of daylight. The sturdy horse having already accomplished some
eighteen or twenty miles since morning, made no objection to a rest
and feed of hay in the stable, whilst Anton was content to sit with
his brother and his two friends in the _stube_ before the trio started
on foot for the Hof. It seemed rather a desire to show the strangers
the neighborhood than any inclination to attend the clerical meeting
which had brought the Herr Student to Nieder Olang this afternoon. And
we, glad of an hour's delay, started immediately with E----, the sunny
summer afternoon made brighter by this joyous meeting, to visit the
adjoining hamlet of Mitter Olang.

The three small adjacent villages of Upper, Middle and Lower Olang,
lying amongst monotonous fields and destitute themselves of any
picturesque beauty, would be passed over by the stranger as totally
devoid of interest; but, thanks to Dr. Staffler's topographical work,
_Das deutsche Tirol und Voralberg_, the mention of Peter Sigmair of
Mitter Olang had excited a strong desire in us to see the spot where
he had lived and died.

After the battle of Austerl