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“Oh no!” said Charlie, with a lordly indifference. “I don’t care about it. Franziska may have it.”

Charlie pulled me aside, and said, with a solemn wink:

“Can you keep a secret?”

“My wife and I can keep a secret. I am not allowed to have any for myself.”

“Listen,” said the unabashed young man; “Krumm shot that fox. Mind you don’t say a word. I must have the skin to present to Franziska.”

I stared at him; I had never known him guilty of a dishonest action. But when you do get a decent young English fellow condescending to do anything shabby, be sure it is a girl who is the cause. I said nothing, of course; and in the evening a trap came for us, and we drove back to Huferschingen.

Tita clapped her hands with delight; for Charlie was a favourite of hers, and now he was returning like a hero, with a sprig of fir in his cap to show that he had killed a buck.

“And here, Miss Franziska,” he said, quite gaily, “here is a yellow fox for you. I was told that you wanted the skin of one.”

Franziska fairly blushed for pleasure; not that the skin of a fox was very valuable for her, but that the compliment was so open and marked. She came forward, in German fashion, and rather shyly shook hands with him in token of her thanks.

When Tita was getting ready for dinner I told her about the yellow fox. A married man must have no secrets.

“He is not capable of such a thing,” she says, with a grand air.

“But he did it,” I point out. “What is more, he glories in it. What did he say when I remonstrated with him on the way home! ‘/Why/,’ says he, ‘/I will put an end to Krumm! I will abolish Krumm! I will extinguish Krumm!/’ Now, madame, who is responsible for this? Who had been praising Franziska night and day as the sweetest, gentlest, cleverest girl in the world, until this young man determines to have a flirtation with her and astonish you?”

“A flirtation!” says Tita, faintly. “Oh no! Oh, I never meant that.”

“Ask him just now, and he will tell you that women deserve no better. They have no hearts; they are treacherous. They have beautiful eyes, but no conscience. And so he means to take them as they are, and have his measure of amusement.”

“Oh, I am sure he never said anything so abominably wicked,” cried Tita, laying down the rose that Franziska had given her for her hair. “I know he could not say such things. But if he is so wicked–if he has said them–it is not too late to interfere. /I/ will see about it.”

She drew herself up as if Jupiter had suddenly armed her with his thunderbolts. If Charlie had seen her at this moment he would have quailed. He might by chance have told the truth, and confessed that all the wicked things he had been saying about woman’s affection were only a sort of rhetoric, and that he had no sort of intention to flirt with poor Franziska, nor yet to extinguish and annihilate Dr. Krumm.

The heartbroken boy was in very good spirits at dinner. He was inclined to wink. Tita, on the contrary, maintained an impressive dignity of demeanour; and when Franziska’s name happened to be mentioned she spoke of the young girl as her very particular friend, as though she would dare Charlie to attempt a flirtation with one who held that honour. But the young man was either blind or reckless, or acting a part for mere mischief. He pointed the finger of scorn at Dr. Krumm. He asked Tita if he should bring her a yellow fox next day. He declared he wished he could spend the remainder of his life in a Black Forest Inn, with a napkin over his arm, serving chopins. He said he would brave the wrath of the Furst by shooting a capercailzie on the very first opportunity, to bring the shining feathers home to Franziska.