t on
its breast, where the bird hall been sprinkled with His Son's blood.
Other rewards were bestowed upon it, for no other bird could hatch a
brood of young ones in winter, and it also had the power of lessening the
fever of those, who cherished it.

A flock of wild geese flew over the road and the hills, and Pellicanus
cried: "Look there! They always fly in two straight lines, and form a
letter of the alphabet. This time it is an A. Can you see it? When the
Lord was writing the laws on the tablets, a flock of wild geese flew
across Mt. Sinai, and in doing so, one effaced a letter with its wing.
Since that time, they always fly in the shape of a letter, and their
whole race, that is, all geese, are compelled to let those people who
wish to write, pluck the feathers from their wings."

Pellicanus was fond of talking to the boy in their bedroom. He always
called him Navarrete, and the artist, when in a cheerful mood, followed
his example.

Ulrich felt great reverence for Moor; the jester, on the contrary, was
only a good comrade, in whom he speedily reposed entire confidence.

Many an allusion and jesting word showed that Pellicanus still believed
him to be the son of a knight, and this at last became unendurable to the
lad.

One evening, when they were both in bed, he summoned up his courage and
told him everything he knew about his past life.

The jester listened attentively, without interrupting him, until Ulrich
finished his story with the words "And while I was gone, the bailiffs and
dogs tracked them, but my father resisted, and they killed him and the
doctor."

"Yes, yes," murmured the jester. "It's a pity about Costa. Many a
Christian might feel honored at resembling some Jews. It is only a
misfortune to be born a Hebrew, and be deprived of eating ham. The Jews
are compelled to wear an offensive badge, but many a Christian child is
born with one. For instance, in Sparta they would have hurled me into the
gulf, on account of my big head, and deformed shoulder. Nowadays, people
are less merciful, and let men like us drag the cripple's mark through
life. God sees the heart; but men cannot forget their ancestor, the clod
of earth--the outside is always more to them than the inside. If my head
had only been smaller, and some angel had smoothed my shoulder, I might
perhaps now be a cardinal, wear purple, and instead of riding under a
grey tilt, drive in a golden coach, with well-fed black steeds. Your body
was