It was even yet not spring, but the snow was all gone, and the
frost was thawing out of the ground under the warm sun. In a
few days the white thorn would begin to bud, and fresh green
violet leaves would come out along the borders of the woods. A
few birds were already circling in the air above the flr-tops as
though expecting to find the flies there already. The wai'mth
and the moisture of everything brought out the sweet smell
of the forest and blew it into Greif 's face at every turn of the
drive.
For the twentieth time since he had been well enough to go
out, he watched the sturdy horses' backs as they drew the light
carriage up the last steep ascent. For the twentieth time he
looked up as he reached the point whence the lower battlements
of the half-ruined castle were visible. As often happened, he



GREIPENSTEIN. 271

descried Hilda's tall figure against the sky, and then immedi-
ately the gleam of something white, waved high to welcome
him. He wondered how she always knew when he was coming.
But Hilda had found that when he came he naturally started
always at the same hour, so that every morning she went up,
and stood on the rampart for twenty minutes, scanning every
bit of the winding road that was in sight. At the end of that
time, if she had not seen the carriage, she knew that he was
not coming, and descended again into the interior, her face less
bright and her eyes less glad than when she had gone up the
steps.
