had always disturbed him, now inspired
him with a mysterious dread, which he could not control. He rose to
withdraw; but she detained him, saying: "Now it is your turn, Captain."

"Some other time," replied Ulrich, repellently. Good fortune always comes
in good time, and to know ill-luck in advance, is a misfortune I should
think."

"I can read the past, too."

Ulrich started. He must learn what his rival's companion knew of his
former life, so he answered quickly, "Well, for aught I care, begin."

"Gladly, gladly, but when I look into the past, I must be alone with the
questioner. Be kind enough to give Zorrillo your company for quarter of
an hour, Sergeant."

"Don't believe everything she tells you, and don't look too deep into her
eyes. Come, Lelaps, my son!" cried the lansquenet, and did as he was
requested.

The woman dealt the cards silently, with trembling hands, but Ulrich
thought: "Now she will try to sound me, and a thousand to one will do
everything in her power to disgust me with desiring the Eletto's baton.
That's the way blockheads are caught. We will keep to the past."

His companion met this resolution halfway; for before she had dealt the
last two rows, she rested her chin on the cards in her hands and, trying
to meet his glance, asked:

"How shall we begin? Do you still remember your childhood?"

"Certainly."

"Your father?"

"I have not seen him for a long time. Don't the cards tell you, that he
is dead?"

"Dead, dead:--of course he's dead. You had a mother too?"

"Yes, yes," he answered impatiently; for he was unwilling to talk with
this woman about his mother.

She shrank back a little, and said sadly: "That sounds very harsh. Do you
no longer like to think of your mother?"

"What is that to you?"

"I must know."

"No, what concerns my mother is . . . I will--is too good for juggling."

"Oh," she said, looking at him with a glance from which he shrank. Then
she silently laid down the last cards, and asked: "Do you want to hear
anything about a sweetheart?"

"I have none. But how you look at me! Have you grown tired of Zorrillo? I
am ill-suited for a gallant."

She shuddered slightly. Her bright face had again grown old, so old and
weary that he pitied her. But she soon regained her composure, and
continued:

"What are you saying? Ask the questions yourself now, if you please."

"Where is my native place?"

"A wooded, mountainous region in Germany."

"Ah, ha! and what