ge letter closely folded
and sealed. This had been the cause and reason of his being ill at ease,
and he had opened it, being of an enquiring mind, and, inasmuch as he was
a schoolmaster's son he could read with the best. Howbeit, at that time
the gang were about to light a fire to make their supper, and whereas it
would not burn by reason of the wet, they had taken the dry paper and
used it to make the feeble flame blaze up.

Thus there was nought more to be hoped for, save that the tailor might by
good hap remember certain parts of the letter; and in truth he was able
to tell us that it was written to a maid named Ann, and in it there were
such words of true love in great straits and bitter parting as moved him
to tears, by reason that he likewise had once had a true love.

While he spoke thus he perceived that Ann was the maiden to whom the
letter had been writ, and he forthwith poured forth a great flow of fiery
love-vows such as he may have learned from his Amadis, but never, albeit
he said it, from that letter.

One thing at least he could make known to us from Herdegen's letter; and
that was that the writer said much concerning slavery and a great ransom,
and likewise of a malignant woman who was his foe, and of her husband,
whose wiles could by no means be brought to nought unless it were by
cunning and prudent craft. This, indeed, he could repeat well-nigh word
for word, by reason that he had conceived the plan of urging Eber to set
forth for the land of Egypt with his robber-band, and deliver that
guiltless slave from the hands of the misbelieving heathen. Albeit he had
made himself a highway thief, it was only by reason that he had been told
that von Wichsenstein had no other end than to restore to the poor that
of which the rich had robbed them, and to release the oppressed from the
power of the mighty. All this had not suffered him to rest on his
tailor's bench till he had laid down the needle and seized the cook's
great roasting spit. Ere long he had discovered that, like master like
man, each man cared for himself alone. He himself had been forced to do
many cruel and knavish deeds, sorely against his will and all that was
good in him. From his pious and gentle mother he had come by a soft and
harmless soul, so that in the winter season he would strew sugar for the
flies when they were starving, and it had even gone against him to stick
his needle into a flesh-colored garment for sheer fear of hurting it