way, and had not been replaced by a new one. The cuffs
and collar, which belonged to his doublet, were missing, and his thick,
fair hair hung in dishevelled locks over his neck and temples; his full,
rosy cheeks had grown thin, his eyes seemed to have enlarged, and during
his imprisonment a soft down had grown on his cheeks and chin.

He was now eighteen, but looked older, and the grave expression on his
brow and in his eyes, gave him the appearance of a man.

He had rushed straight forward, without asking himself whither; now he
reached a busy street and checked his career. Was he in Madrid? Yes, for
there rose the blue peaks of the Guadarrama chain, which he knew well.
There were the little trees at which the denizen of the Black Forest had
often smiled, but which to-day looked large and stately. Now a toreador,
whom he had seen more than once in the arena, strutted past. This was the
gate, through which he had ridden out of the city beside the master's
calash.

He must go into the town, but what should he do there?

Had they restored the master's gold with the clothes?

He searched the pockets, but instead of the purse, found only a few large
silver coins, which he knew he had not possessed at the time of his
capture.

In a cook-shop behind the gate he enjoyed some meat and wine after his
long deprivation, and after reflecting upon his situation he decided to
call on Don Fabrizio.

The porter refused him admittance, but after he had mentioned his name,
kindly invited him into the porch, and told him that the baron and his
wife were in the country with the Marquesa Romero. They were expected
back on Tuesday, and would doubtless receive him then, for they had
already asked about him several times. The young gentleman probably came
from some foreign country; it was the custom to wear hats in Madrid.

Ulrich now noticed what he lacked, but before leaving, to supply the
want, asked the porter, if he knew what had become of Master Moor.

Safe! He was safe! Several weeks before Donna Sophonisba had received a
letter sent from Flanders, and Ulrich's companion was well informed, for
his wife served the baroness as 'doncella'.

Joyously, almost beside himself with pure, heart-cheering delight, the
released prisoner hurried away, bought himself a new cap, and then sought
the Alcazar.

Before the treasury, in the place of old Santo, Carmen's father, stood a
tall, broad portero, still a young man, who rudely refused h