over the surprising news. "Lips, man--Philipp! I
have found my mother again, and now my father too. Wait, wait! I'll speak
to the lieutenant, he must take my place, and you and I will ride to
Lier; there you will tell me the whole story. Holy Virgin! thanks, a
thousand thanks! I shall see my father again, my father!"

It was past midnight, but the schoolmates were still sitting over their
wine in a private room in the Lion at Lier. The Eletto had not grown
weary of questioning, and Count Philipp willingly answered.

Ulrich now knew what death the doctor had met, and that his father had
gone to Antwerp and lived there as an armorer for twelve years. The Jew's
dumb wife had died of grief on the journey, but Ruth was living with the
old man and kept house for him. Navarrete had often heard the Swabian and
his work praised, and wore a corselet from his workshop.

The count could tell him a great deal about Ruth. He acknowledged that he
had not sought Adam the Swabian for weapons, but on account of his
beautiful daughter. The girl was slender as a fir-tree! And her face!
once seen could never be forgotten. So might have looked the beautiful
Judith, who slew Holophernes, or Queen Zenobia, or chaste Lucretia of
Rome! She was now past twenty and in the bloom of her beauty, but cold as
glass; and though she liked him on account of his old friendship for
Ulrich and the affair in the forest, he was only permitted to look at,
not touch her. She would rejoice when she heard that Ulrich was still
alive, and what he had become. And the smith, the smith! Nay, he would
not go home now, but back to Antwerp to be Ulrich's messenger! But now he
too would like to relate his own experiences.

He did so, but in a rapid, superficial way, for the Eletto constantly
reverted to old days and his father. Every person whom they had both
known was enquired for.

Old Count Frohlinger was still alive, but suffered a great deal from gout
and the capricious young wife he had married in his old age. Hangemarx
had grown melancholy and, after all, ended his life by the rope, though
by his own hand. Dark-skinned Xaver had entered the priesthood and was
living in Rome in high esteem, as a member of a Spanish order. The abbot
still presided over the monastery and had a great deal of time for his
studies; for the school had been broken up and, as part of the property
of the monastery had been confiscated, the number of monks had
diminished. The magistrate h