CHAPTER VI.

St. John's day was close at hand. Ulrich was to go to the monastery the
following morning. Hitherto Father Benedict had been satisfied, and no
one molested the doctor. Yet the tranquillity, which formerly exerted so
beneficial an effect, had departed, and the measures of precaution he now
felt compelled to adopt, like everything else that brought him into
connection with the world, interrupted the progress of his work.

The smith was obliged to provide Ulrich with clothing, and for this
purpose went with the lad and a well-filled purse, not to his native
place, but to the nearest large city.

There many a handsome suit of garments hung in the draper's windows, and
the barefooted boy blushed crimson with delight, when he stood before
this splendid show. As he was left free to choose, he instantly selected
the clothes a nobleman had ordered for his son, and which, from head to
foot, were blue on one side and yellow on the other. But Adam pushed them
angrily aside. Ulrich's pleasure in the gay stuff reminded him of his
wife's outfit, the pink and green gowns.

So he bought two dark suits, which fitted the lad's erect figure as if
moulded upon him, and when the latter stood before him in the inn, neatly
dressed, with shoes on his feet, and a student's cap on his head, Adam
could not help gazing at him almost idolatrously.

The tavern-keeper whispered to the smith, that it was long since he had
seen so handsome a young fellow, and the hostess, after bringing the
beer, stroked the boy's curls with her wet hand.

On reaching home, Adam permitted his son to go to the doctor's in his new
clothes; Ruth screamed with joy when she saw him, walked round and round
him, and curiously felt the woollen stuff of the doublet and its blue
slashes, ever and anon clapping her hands in delight.

Her parents had expected that the parting would excite her most
painfully, but she smiled joyously into her playmate's face, when he bade
her farewell, for she took the matter in her usual way, not as it really
was, but as she imagined it to be. Instead of the awkward Ulrich of the
present, the fairy-prince he was now to become stood before her; he was
to return without fail at Christmas, and then how delightful it would be
to play with him again. Of late they had been together even more than
usual, continually seeking for the word, and planning a thousand
delightful things he was to conjure up for her, and she for him and