brain; a surge of temptation, a beat of all his blood, went over him, to
set spur to the mare and to go on into the unknown for ever. And then it
passed away; hunger and fatigue, and that habit of middling actions which
we call common sense, resumed their empire; and in that changed mood his
eye lighted upon two bright windows on his left hand, between the road
and river.

He turned off by a by-road, and in a few minutes he was knocking with his
whip on the door of a large farmhouse, and a chorus of dogs from the
farmyard were making angry answer. A very tall, old, white-headed man
came, shading a candle, at the summons. He had been of great strength in
his time, and of a handsome countenance; but now he was fallen away, his
teeth were quite gone, and his voice when he spoke was broken and
falsetto.

'You will pardon me,' said Otto. 'I am a traveller and have entirely
lost my way.'

'Sir,' said the old man, in a very stately, shaky manner, 'you are at the
River Farm, and I am Killian Gottesheim, at your disposal. We are here,
sir, at about an equal distance from Mittwalden in Grunewald and
Brandenau in Gerolstein: six leagues to either, and the road excellent;
but there is not a wine bush, not a carter's alehouse, anywhere between.
You will have to accept my hospitality for the night; rough hospitality,
to which I make you freely welcome; for, sir,' he added with a bow, 'it
is God who sends the guest.'

'Amen. And I most heartily thank you,' replied Otto, bowing in his turn.

'Fritz,' said the old man, turning towards the interior, 'lead round this
gentleman's horse; and you, sir, condescend to enter.'

Otto entered a chamber occupying the greater part of the ground-floor of
the building. It had probably once been divided; for the farther end was
raised by a long step above the nearer, and the blazing fire and the
white supper-table seemed to stand upon a dais. All around were dark,
brass-mounted cabinets and cupboards; dark shelves carrying ancient
country crockery; guns and antlers and broadside ballads on the wall; a
tall old clock with roses on the dial; and down in one corner the
comfortable promise of a wine barrel. It was homely, elegant, and
quaint.

A powerful youth hurried out to attend on the grey mare; and when Mr.
Killian Gottesheim had presented him to his daughter Ottilia, Otto
followed to the stable as became, not perhaps the Prince, but the good
horseman. When he returned, a smoking om