this moment the door flew open, and the housekeeper--who was wont to
be a right sober-witted widow--rushed into the refectory, followed by
my aunt's waiting-maid, both with crimson cheeks and so full of their
matter that they forgot the reverence due to our worshipful guests, and
it was hard at first to learn what had so greatly disturbed them. So
soon as this was clear, Cousin Maud, and Ann and I at her heels, ran
off to the chamber where Master Ulsenius still tarried with the sick
traveller, inasmuch as that if the women were not deceived, the poor
fellow was none other than Eppelein, Herdegen's faithful henchman. The
tiringwoman likewise, a smart young wench, believed that it was he; and
her opinion was worthy to be trusted by reason that she was one of the
many maids who had looked upon Eppelein with favor.

We presently were standing by the lad's bedside; Master Ulsenius had
just done with bandaging his head and body and arms; the poor fellow had
been indeed cruelly handled, and but for the Brunswicker's help he must
have died. That Kubbeling should not have known him, although they had
often met in past years, was easy to explain; for I myself could scarce
have believed that the pale, hollow-eyed man who lay there, to all
seeming dying, was our brisk and nimble-witted Eppelein. Yet verily he
it was, and Ann flung herself on her knees by the bed, and it was right
piteous to hear her cry: "Poor, faithful Eppelein!" and many other
good words in low and loving tones. Yet did he not hear nor understand,
inasmuch as he was not in his senses. For the present there was nought
of tidings to be had from him, and this was all the greater pity by
reason that the thieves had stripped off his clothes, even to his boots,
and thus, if he were the bearer of any writing, he might now never
deliver it. Yet he had come with some message. When the men left us
there Ann bent over him and laid a wet kerchief on his hot head, and he
presently opened his eyes a little way, and pointed with his left hand,
which was sound, to the end of the bed-place where his feet lay, and
murmured, scarce to be heard and as though he were lost: "The letter,
oh, the letter!" But then he lost his senses; and presently he said
the same words again and again. So his heart and brain were full of one
thing, and that was the letter which some one--and who else than his
well-beloved Master--had straitly charged him to deliver rightly.

Every word he might speak i