a had rested a fortnight before was still lying in the same
place.

They passed a handsome girl, dressed in once genteel, but now shabby,
finery. She was of a powerful frame, tawny complexion, and her
blue-black hair was braided in thick plaits. She stared at Walpurga,
but did not greet her until after she had passed.

"That's the daughter of the old woman you gave a present to," said
Walpurga, addressing the lackey. "She goes by the name of Black Esther.
If the mother doesn't bury the money out of sight, she'll surely take
it from her."

Although Baum turned toward Walpurga, he was not looking at her, but at
the girl, who was no other than his sister. A little while ago, he had
denied his mother, while bestowing an alms upon her. And now he sat up
beside the postilion, his arms folded as if to brace himself, for he
felt as if his heart would break. His whole life passed before him,
and, now and then, he planted himself more firmly in his seat, lest he
should fall. And now the carriage passed by a farmyard where, twenty
years ago, he had, by his mother's order, stolen a goose. He was a slim
lad then and had found it easy to slip in, on all fours, through the
gap in the hedge, which had closed up in the mean while.

Thomas, his twin brother, had joined the poachers. But Baum, who was
not apt at their work, was glad when they took him for a soldier. One
day while we was on duty at the palace an old _valet de chambre_
brought a letter from Baroness Steigeneck, who was then at the height
of her power. The valet was kept waiting a long while, during which he
chatted with Baum, to whom he took a great liking. He invited Baum to
visit the Steigeneck palace, where they drank together in the servants'
room and were exceedingly jolly.

"Why is your hair so red?" said the _valet de chambre_.

"Why? Because it grew so."

"But that can be remedied."

"Indeed! How so?"

The old man gave Baum the requisite directions.

"You must also change your name. Rauhensteiner is too hard for their
lordships. It is difficult to pronounce, and particularly for those who
have false teeth. You must take some such name as Beck, or Schultz, or
Hecht, or Baum. For, mind you, a dog has no name except the one its
master sees fit to call it by."

"'Baum' would suit me very well."

"Well then, let it be Baum." On his way home that night, he kept
continually saying to himself, "Baum, Baum--that's a short and easy
name and no one will know me