ky
blue as turquoise, of slender columns and bubbling fountains, olive
groves and marble statues, cool churches and gleaming villas, sparkling
eyes and fiery wine, magnificent choirs and Isabella's singing.
The doves that cooed and clucked, flew away and returned to the cote
beside him, could now do as they chose, their guardian neither saw nor
heard them.
Allertssohn, the fencing-master, ascended the ladder to his watch-tower,
but he did not notice him until he stood on the balcony by his side,
greeting him with his deep voice.
"Where have we been, Herr Wilhelm?" asked the old man. "In this
cloth-weaving Leyden? No! Probably with the goddess of music on Olympus,
if she has her abode there."
"Rightly guessed," replied Wilhelm, pushing the hair back from his
forehead with both hands. "I have been visiting her, and she sends you a
friendly greeting."
"Then offer one from me in return," replied the other, "but she usually
belongs to the least familiar of my acquaintances. My throat is better
suited to drinking than singing. Will you allow me?"
The fencing-master raised the jug of beer which Wilhelm's mother filled
freshly every day and placed in her darling's room, and took a long
pull. Then wiping his moustache, he said:
"That did me good, and I needed it. The men wanted to go out pleasuring
and omit their drill, but we forced them to go through it, Junker von
Warmond, Duivenvoorde and I. Who knows how soon it may be necessary
to show what we can do. Roland, my fore man, such imprudence is like a
cudgel, against which one can do nothing with Florentine rapiers, clever
tierce and quarto. My wheat is destroyed by the hail."
"Then let it be, and see if the barley and clover don't do better,"
replied Wilhelm gaily, tossing vetches and grains of wheat to a large
dove that had alighted on the parapet of his tower.
"It eats, and what use is it?" cried Allertssohn, looking at the dove.
"Herr von Warmond, a young man after God's own heart, has just brought
me two falcons; do you want to see how I tame them?"
"No, Captain, I have enough to do with my music and my doves."
"That is your affair. The long-necked one yonder is a queer-looking
fellow."
"And of what country is he probably a native? There he goes to join the
others. Watch him a little while and then answer me."
"Ask King Soloman that; he was on intimate terms with birds."
"Only watch him, you'll find out presently."
"The fellow has a stiff
|