A court had granted the land to his grandfather, taking it away from the illegal possession of a neighboring family. Ulrich was the head of his family and if there was a man in the world whom he hated and wished ill to, it was Georg Znaeym.
There is good wine in the flask. Let us drink, even if to-night one of us dies.
In any case I don't drink wine with an enemy.
He wandered far down the steep slopes amid the wild tangle of undergrowth, peering through the tree trunks and listening through the whistling and skirling of the wind and the restless beating of the branches for sight and sound of the marauders.
I will ask you to be my friend
I never thought to have wanted to do other than hate you all my life, but I think I have changed my mind about things too. Ulrich von Gradwitz, I will be your friend.
If only on this wild night, in this dark, lone spot, he might come across Georg Znaeym, man to man, with none to witness - that was the wish that was uppermost in his thoughts. And as he stepped round the trunk of a huge beech he came face to face with the man he sought.
Who are they? Are they your men you had been waiting?
Ulrich himself was feeling the old fierce hatred seemed to be dying down. They quarrelled like devils all their lives over this stupid strip of forest, where the trees couldn't even stand upright in a breath of wind. He changed his mind.
For a space both men were silent, turning over in their minds the wonderful changes that this dramatic reconciliation would bring about. In the cold, gloomy forest, with the wind tearing in fitful gusts through the naked branches and whistling round the tree-trunks, they stood and waited for the help that would now bring release and succour to both parties.
Waiting for their own groups of people, they mixed them up with wolves running through this dense and quiet forest. And no one could have guessed that it would happen. Nobody could believe in this to be real. No one. Never.