I served them the wine, and then the girls came in; Meister Haifisch bent and shook their hands, and asked them how they were; and a warmth came into his expression. He looked as dry as dust and no more kindly than a silver ink-pot, but he was as polite and attentive to those two little girls as if they’d been the Duchess of Savoy and her twin sister. Lucy and Charlotte blossomed, and sat on the sofa at either side of him, sipping their wine and talking with all the elegance in the world, while their uncle prowled, gnawing his fingers, around the edges of the room and said nothing.

Presently Meister Haifisch stood up and bowed to the girls, excusing himself, as it was time to dress for dinner; and while I cleared away the glasses, Count Karlstein came and stood by the fire again and said to them:

“Lucy, Charlotte—how long have you been here now? A year, is it?”

“Almost, Uncle Heinrich,” said Lucy.

The count looked down. Then abruptly he said, “How would you like a holiday?”

Both the girls looked startled for a moment, then nodded vigorously.

“We’d love it,” said Lucy.

“Leaving tomorrow afternoon,” he said, beaming, trying to be genial. “Just a few days, mind.”

“Anything!” said Charlotte, eagerly.

“Where would we be going?” said Lucy.

“To my hunting lodge,” said Count Karlstein.

Their faces dropped involuntarily—but only for a second, and then they recovered. He didn’t notice.

“That would be very pleasant, Uncle Heinrich,” said Lucy.

“Thank you very much,” said Charlotte, trying as hard as she could to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“Good, good, that’s settled then,” said the count, and dismissed them briskly, settling down at his desk and scribbling at some papers. I followed the girls out.

They were neither of them keen on hunting; and if you don’t like hunting, where’s the fun in staying at a hunting lodge? Deep in the middle of the forest, all set about with pine trees…Set about with wolves, too, and bears and wild boars. What would the girls do there but struggle through the deep snow and watch Count Karlstein hack the life out of some poor deer his bullets had brought twitching to the ground? What would they do in the evening but sit wrapped in furs beside the skimpy fire and watch Count Karlstein getting drunk with his chief huntsman? A fine holiday they’d have!