acquainted with the signorina, I wanted to spare
him the rebuff he would probably meet from the foe of our holy Church.
The poor man has enough to suffer from good-for-nothing boys and
scoffers, when he goes through the city with the sacrament."

"You know people are strictly forbidden to disturb him in the exercise of
his calling."

"Yet he can't show himself in the street without being jeered. We two
cannot change the world, sir. So long as the Church had the upper hand,
she burned and quartered you, now you have the power here, our priests
are persecuted and scorned."

"Against the law and the orders of the magistrates."

"You can't control the people, and Father Damianus is a lamb, who bears
everything patiently, as good a Christian as many saints before whom we
burn candles. Do you know the doctor?"

"A little, by sight."

"Oh, then go to him, sir, for the young lady's sake," cried the old man
earnestly. "It is in your power to save a human life, a beautiful young
life."

The steward's eyes glittered with tears. As Wilhelm laid his hand on his
arm, saying kindly: "I will try," the fencing-master called: "Your
council is lasting too long for me. I'll come another time."

"No, Meister, come up a minute, This gentleman is here on account of a
poor sick girl. The poor, helpless creature is now lying without any
care, for her aunt, old Fraulein Van Hoogstraten, has driven Doctor de
Bont from her bed because he is a Calvinist."

"From the sick girl's bed?"

"It's abominable enough, but the old lady is now ill herself."

"Bravo, bravo!" cried the fencing-master, clapping his hands. "If the
devil himself isn't afraid of her and wants to fetch her, I'll pay for
his post-horses. But the girl, the sick girl?"

"Herr Belotti begs me to persuade de Bont to visit her again. Are you on
friendly terms with the doctor?"

"I was, Wilhelm, I was; but--last Friday we had some sharp words about
the new morions, and now the learned demi-god demands an apology from me,
but to sound a retreat isn't written here--"

"Oh, my dear sir," cried Belotti, with touching earnestness. "The poor
child is lying helpless in a raging fever. If Heaven has blessed you with
children--"

"Be calm, old man, be calm," replied the fencing master, stroking
Belotti's grey hair kindly. "My children are nothing to you, but we'll do
what we can for the young girl. Farewell till we meet again, gentlemen.
Roland, my fore man, what shall we live to