ice."

"And you did so as easily as if it were a short fast after an abundant
meal?"

"It was little more difficult," Wolff asserted. "My father would have
gladly seen me outdo my countrymen, and sent me more money than I needed.
Why should I deprive honest fellows who had less?"

"That's just the difficulty," cried his companion eagerly. "It was easy
for you to renounce games of chance because your winnings only added more
to the rest, and you did not wish to pluck poorer partners. But I! A poor
devil like me cannot maintain armour-bearer, servants, and steeds out of
what the dear little mother at home in her faithful care can spare from
crops and interest. How could we succeed in making a fair appearance at
court and in the tournament if it were not for the dice? And then, when I
lose, I again become but the poor knight the saints made me; when I win,
on the contrary, I am the great and wealthy lord I would have been born
had the Lord permitted me to choose my own cradle. Besides, those who
lose through me are mainly dukes, counts, and gentlemen with rich fiefs
and fat bourgs, whom losing doubtless benefits, as bleeding relieves a
sick man. What suits the soldier does not befit the merchant. We live
wholly amid risks and wagers. Every battle, every skirmish is a game
whose stake is life. Whoever reflects long is sure to lose. If I could
only describe, Herr Eysvogel, what it is to dash headlong upon the foe!"

"I could imagine that vividly enough," Wolff eagerly interposed. "I, too,
have broken many a lance in the lists and shed blood enough."

"What a dunce I am!" cried Heinz in amazement, pressing his hand upon his
brow. "That's why your face was so familiar! By my saint! I am no knight
if I did not see you then, before the battle waxed hot. It was close
beside your Burgrave Frederick, who held aloft the imperial banner."

"Probably," replied Wolff in a tone of assent. "He sometimes entrusted
the standard to me, when it grew too heavy for his powerful arm, because
I was the tallest and the strongest of our Nuremberg band. But,
unluckily, I could not render this service long. A scimitar gashed my
head. The larger part of the little scar is hidden under my hair."

"The little scar!" repeated Heinz gaily. "It was wide enough, at any
rate, for the greatest soul to slip through it. A scar on the head from a
wound received four years ago, and yet distinctly visible in the
moonlight!"

"It should serve as a warning,