sighing:

"But the little fellow was too young to remember it. The rattle which she
gave him at Augsburg--it was just before the accident--because she was so
fond of him--Saint Kunigunde, how could we keep such worthless jewels in
our sore need?--was made of pure silver. True, the simpletons who were so
madly in love with her, and with whom she played so cruelly, would have
believed her capable of anything sooner than such kindness. There was a
Swabian knight, a young fellow----"

Here she stopped, for Cyriax and the other vagabonds, even the girl of
whom she was speaking, had started up and were gazing at the door.

Kuni opened her eyes as wide as if a miracle had happened, and the
crimson spots on her sunken cheeks betrayed how deeply she was agitated.
But she had never experienced anything of this kind; for while thinking
of the time when, through Lienhard Groland's intercession, she had
entered the house of the wealthy old Frau Schurstab, in order to become
estranged from a vagabond life, and recalling how once, when he saw her
sorrowful there, he had spoken kindly to her, it seemed as if she had
actually heard his own voice. As it still appeared to echo in her ears,
she suddenly became aware that the words really did proceed from his
lips. What she had heard in her dream and what now came from his own
mouth, as he stood at the door, blended into one. She would never have
believed that the power of imagination could reproduce anything so
faithfully.

Listening intently, she said to herself that, during the many thousand
times when she had talked with him in fancy, it had also seemed as if she
heard him speak. And the same experience had befallen her eyes; for
whenever memory reverted to those distant days, she had beheld him just
as he now looked standing on the threshold, where he was detained by the
landlady of The Pike. Only his face had become still more manly, his
bearing more dignified. The pleasant, winning expression of the bearded
lips remained unchanged, and more than once she had seen his eyes sparkle
with a far warmer light than now, while he was thanking the portly woman
for her cordial welcome.

While Kuni's gaze still rested upon him as if spellbound, Cyriax nudged
her, stammering hurriedly:

"They will have to pass us. Move forward, women, in front of me. Spread
out your skirt, you Redhead! It might be my death if yonder Nuremberg
fine gentleman should see me here and recollect one thing and a