it, and exclaimed:
"Doubtless she used her own colour to tie it. Blue, the pure, exquisite
blue of her eyes! I thought so Forget-me-not blue! The most beautiful of
colours. You must pardon my impatience!"

He was about to begin to read the lines; but Wolff stopped him by
pointing to the Ortlieb residence and to two drunken soldiers who came
out of the tavern "For Thirsty Troopers," and walked, singing and
staggering, up the opposite side of the street. Then, extending his hand
to Heinz in farewell, he asked in a low tone, pointing to Biberli's
figure just emerging from the shade, who was the messenger of love who
served him so admirably.

"My shadow," replied the knight. "I loosed him from my heels and bade him
stand there. But no offence, Herr Wolff Eysvogel; you'll make the queer
fellow's acquaintance if, like myself, it would be agreeable to you to
meet often, not only on iron chains, but on friendly terms with each
other."

"Nothing would please me more," replied the other. "But how in the world
could it happen that this well-guarded fortress surrendered to you after
so short a resistance?"

"Heinz Schorlin rides swiftly," he interrupted; but Wolff exclaimed:

"A swift ride awaits me, too, though of a different kind. When I return,
I shall expect you to tell me how you won our 'little saint,' my
sister-in-law Eva. The two beautiful Ortlieb 'Es' are one in the eyes of
the townsfolk, so we also will be often named in the same breath, and
shall do well to feel brotherly regard for each other. There shall be no
fault on my part. Farewell, till we meet again, an' it please God in and
not outside of our ladies' dwelling."

While speaking he clasped the knight's hand with so firm a grasp that it
seemed as if he wished to force him to feel its pressure a long time, and
hastened through the Frauenthor.

Heinz Schorlin gazed thoughtfully after him a short time, then beckoned
to Biberli and, though the interval required for him to reach his
master's side was very brief, it was sufficient for the bold young lover,
tortured by his ardent longing, to form another idea.

"Look yonder, Biberli!" he exclaimed. "The holy-water basin on the
door-post, the escutcheon on the lintel above, the helmet, which would
probably bear my weight. From there I can reach the window-sill with my
hand, and once I have grasped it, I need only make one bold spring and,
hurrah! I'm on it."

"May our patron saint have mercy on us!" cried the s