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'We may now venture,' said Francis, looking out.
'Will you not accept this trifle?' said the painter, with some hesitation, as he laid a purse upon the table: for he felt alike unwilling to remain under an obligation to his host, or to offer a pecuniary reconpence for the kindness of his daughter.
'No!' cried Francis, in a voice of thunder; and strode out of the hovel, followed by his terrified guest.
Some months after this adventure, the young Count Otto, and Christian his servant, entered the gloomy forest of Soroe. They advanced slowly through the thick underwood, which hung in tangled mazes over their path; whilst their fiery coursers tossed their arched necks, and lashed their long tails, impatient of delay. It was the first day of November, and the evening was fast closing in with the damp chill peculiar to that season. It did not rain, but moisture hung in the air, and the blood of the travellers felt turned to steel. After proceeding some time in silence, a long vista through the trees, showed them, at a distance, an extensive lake, which gleamed like polished silver, amidst the surrounding darkness. A tall figure, wrapt in a large mantle, stood upon its banks, resting upon the stock of a fowlingpiece; a broad Spanish hat
