Ulrich was her
comfort, pride and plaything, but sporting with him did not satisfy her.

While Adam was standing behind the anvil, she sat among the flowers in
the bow-window, and the watchmen now looked higher up than the forge, the
worthy magistrates no longer cast unfriendly glances at the smith's
house, for Florette grew more and more beautiful in the quiet life she
now enjoyed, and many a neighboring noble brought his horse to Adam to be
shod, merely to look into the eyes of the artisan's beautiful wife.

Count von Frohlingen came most frequently of all, and Florette soon
learned to distinguish the hoof-beats of his horse from those of the
other steeds, and when he entered the shop, willingly found some pretext
for going there too. In the afternoons she often went with her child
outside the gate, and then always chose the road leading to the count's
castle. There was no lack of careful friends, who warned Adam, but he
answered them angrily, so they learned to be silent.

Florette had now grown gay again, and sometimes sang like a joyous bird.

Seven years elapsed, and during the summer of the eighth a scattered
troop of soldiers came to the city and obtained admission. They were
quartered under the arches of the town-hall, but many also lay in the
smithy, for their helmets, breast-plates and other pieces of armor
required plenty of mending. The ensign, a handsome, proud young fellow,
with a dainty moustache, was Adam's most constant customer, and played
very kindly with Ulrich, when Florette appeared with him. At last the
young soldier departed, and the very same day Adam was summoned to the
monastery, to mend something in the grating before the treasury.

When he returned, Florette had vanished; "run after the ensign," people
said, and they were right. Adam did not attempt to wrest her from the
seducer; but a great love cannot be torn from the heart like a staff that
is thrust into the ground; it is intertwined with a thousand fibres, and
to destroy it utterly is to destroy the heart in which it has taken root,
and with it life itself. When he secretly cursed her and called her a
viper, he doubtless remembered how innocent, dear and joyous she had
been, and then the roots of the destroyed affection put forth new shoots,
and he saw before his mental vision ensnaring images, of which he felt
ashamed as soon as they had vanished.

Lightning and hail had entered the "delightful garden" of Adam's life
also, and h