t. Give me the portfolio, man! The diploma is in the brown one."

He handed a parchment to the prelate, who, after reading it, said firmly:

"This Jew is a more important person than we supposed. They are not
lavish with such praise in Coimbra. Are you taking good care of the
doctor's books Herr Conrad? I will look at them to-morrow."

"They are at your disposal. These papers. . . ."

"Leave them, leave them."

"There will be more than enough for the complaint without them," said the
magistrate. "Our town-clerk, who though no student is, as you know, a man
of much experience, shares my opinion." Then he continued pathetically:
"Only he who has cause to fear the law hides his name, only he, who feels
guilty, flees the judge."

A subtle smile, that was not wholly free from bitterness, hovered around
the abbot's lips, for he thought of the painful trial and the
torture-chamber in the town hall, and no longer saw in the doctor merely
the Jew, but the humanist and companion in study.

His glance again fell on the diploma, and while the other continued his
representations, the prelate stretched himself more comfortably in his
arm-chair and gazed thoughtfully at the ground. Then, as if an idea had
suddenly occurred to him, he touched his high forehead with the tips of
his fingers, and suddenly interrupting the eager speaker, said:

"Father Anselm came to us from Porto five years ago, and when there knew
every one who understood Greek. Go, Gutbub, and tell the librarian to
come." The monk soon appeared.

Tidings of Ulrich's disappearance and the Jew's flight had spread rapidly
through the monastery; the news was discussed in the choir, the school,
the stable and the kitchen; Father Anselm alone had heard nothing of the
matter, though he had been busy in the library before daybreak, and the
vexatious incident had been eagerly talked of there.

It was evident, that the elderly man cared little for anything that
happened in the world, outside of his manuscripts and printing. His long,
narrow head rested on a thin neck, which did not stand erect, but grew
out between the shoulders like a branch from the stem. His face was grey
and lined with wrinkles, like pumice-stone, but large bright eyes lent
meaning and attraction to the withered countenance.

At first he listened indifferently to the abbot's story, but as soon as
the Jew's name was mentioned, and he had read the diploma, as swiftly as
if he possessed the gift of ga