But her grandfather kept on with his talking.

"Ja, ja," he said, "we'll beat them, we'll beat them. We'll give the French a lesson this time, our soldiers all promise it. And that Corsican—we'll teach him, too. Why not? We Prussians are three to the French one, and soldiers of Frederick the Great to boot. Ja wohl, little one, we'll have a famous victory!"

But Bettina was not listening.

While her grandfather had gone on with his talk, her little hand had grown cold in his clasp, her tongue had become dry, and her back felt as if water were running down it.

It was the Erl King that was coming, Ach Himmel! she knew it.

There were his two eyes, blazing like great stars through the fog.

Nearer they came, and nearer, and she heard the tramp of his steed, and, oh, if he called her, not even her grandfather could hold her, Willy had said so.

Brighter grew the eyes, and brighter.

"Grandfather," she tried to call, but her throat would not move. Nearer the Erl King came, and between the eyes she saw something great, and tall, and white, and dreadful. Nearer it came. Nearer! Nearer!

"Ach Himmel!" Her grandfather's voice broke the spell. "But who are coming?"

Then the two great eyes suddenly turned into torches, and one was held by the Postmaster of Jena, and the other by a French officer, and between them the lights showed a white horse, and on its back sat a man whose eyes seemed to pierce right through the fog and the darkness.

Bettina shrank against her grandfather. The one on the horse frightened her even as much as if he were the Erl King. Never had she seen such piercing eyes nor felt so terrified. He was small and stout, and he wore an overcoat of green with white facings. His hat was folded up front and back, and his mouth was as beautiful as the rest of his face was hard and terrifying. But even his beautiful lips seemed to say, "Keep out of my way, or I shall ride over you."

One firm, strong hand held the bridle of his horse, with the other he pointed, his whip held fast, through the fog towards the dim outline of the great old mountain of Dornburg.

When he spoke it was in French. Bettina could not understand him, but Hans, who, like most Germans of that day, spoke both languages, heard him say:

"Those Prussians have left the heights. They were afraid," then, with a laugh of scorn, he interrupted himself, "afraid of the night," he continued, "and have descended to sleep in the valley. They believe that we shall not take advantage of their slumber." Again he laughed, and so disagreeably that Bettina shivered; "but they are dreadfully mistaken, those old wigs!"

Laughter joined with his, and two horses appeared in his rear and the torches revealed their riders to be French Marshals in uniform.

But the Postmaster was silent, his face darkening.

As for Hans, he muttered under his breath to Bettina:

"Ach Himmel, but hear him. He calls the generals of Frederick the Great, 'old wigs.'"

"Grandfather," Bettina pulled at him to bend down and listen, "is it the Erl King? Will he get me?"

"The Erl King?" The old man was completely puzzled. "The one on the white horse, child, you mean? That, my Bettina, is the Emperor!"

The Emperor! Oh, Heavens! Then, indeed, did Bettina wish that she was home with her mother. Better the Erl King, better the old witch who got Hans and Gretel, better any number of cruel step-mothers: better all the witches, giants and ogres than the dreadful monster everyone called "The Emperor!"

Only that afternoon had her godmother told Willy that he lived but for blood, and that Death followed every step of that white horse.

"It would be well for the world if God took him," she had added, and now this dreadful monster was pointing his whip at her, little Bettina Weyland, and asking the Postmaster who were these people in his path.

When he had an answer he motioned them to pass quickly. Then, dismounting, he and his generals proceeded up the hill of Jena.

As Hans and Bettina went on their way his voice followed after, and it was not pleasant things it said, for it stormed at Marshal Lannes because his artillery had stuck fast in a gorge. And then Hans heard something about the Prussians and good-morning.

As for Hans he was hot with fury.

"'Old wigs,'" he kept muttering, "'Old wigs,' indeed! Did you hear him, the villain, Bettina, call our generals 'old wigs'?"

But Bettina had herself, and not the generals of Prussia, to think of.

"Grandfather," she cried, "grandfather, will the Emperor get us?"

Her grandfather laughed almost merrily,

"Nein, nein, little one," he said. "In a day or two the soldiers of Frederick the Great will set that white horse scampering back to Paris. Nein, nein, my little Bettina, there is nothing to fear. But come, here is our path in the forest. We are safe now, and out of the puddles."

Their home lay on the edge of the deep, green wood, a little red-roofed forest house with a paved courtyard, with a barn for the cows, and a garden in front. It was a lovely spot, but a very lonely one, but they must live there because Bettina's father, Kaspar Weyland, was an under forester. But just then he was in the army and Frau Weyland was alone with the children.

Her voice reached them almost as soon as they came out of the deep forest.

"Father, is that you?" she called. "Father!"

"Ja, ja, dear daughter. Open the door and hear the news."

"God be thanked you have come." And she appeared in the doorway, holding in one hand a light, and drawing a shawl about her bed-gown with the other.

"Oh, father, father, how could you?"

She was young and looked like a grown-up Bettina with golden hair showing under the edges of her nightcap. She shut the door hastily as they entered.

"Annchen, Annchen," the old man made no excuses, "we have just seen the Emperor in the fields near Jena."

"The Emperor!" Frau Weyland set down her light. Her father nodding, she cried out, wringing her hands:

"Ach Gott! Ach Gott! Then, father, we shall have a battle."

The old man shrugged his broad shoulders.

"It may be, daughter," he bent down and kissed her, "but who can tell? The Prussians, to-day, said not."

Then, sitting in a wooden chair by the table, she, standing and listening, Bettina's hand in hers, he told all he had heard at Jena and described their adventures, weary little Bettina sleepily listening. And he told how the Prussian soldiers had gone early to bed because of the damp and the fog, and of how they had no cloaks, and how, the bread giving out, they had been on half rations for some days.

"But their spirits are brave, daughter," he added, "and you never heard such boasting. They are certain of victory; certain, Anna. Prince Hohenlohe was with them this afternoon, and he laughed like a boy when a soldier declared that he would catch one Frenchman, another two, a third, four, and so on. You never heard such boasting."

Frau Weyland shook her head, her nightcap bobbing.

"Boasting, father, never won a prize yet. It is doing that counts, and the Emperor was out in such weather, studying the field, and the Prussians sleeping. Ach, I do not find that promising."

Then suddenly she ran to her father, she clung to him like a child, her blue eyes gazing up into his like Bettina's.

"Ah, father," her lips quivered, "if there should be a battle and my Kaspar——"

The old man wrapped her in his strong arms. She was his only child and the best of daughters.

"There will be a battle, dear Anna," he said quite solemnly; "it is war, now, and there must be. But why should harm come to Kaspar? Look at me——"

His eyes began to kindle, and his daughter, who knew what was coming, loosened his arms and rose.

"Why, in the battle of——"

"Ja, ja, father," Frau Weyland interrupted with a half smile. When her father began on his battles time might go its way unheeded. "I know, you have