and sincerely
sorry for the ill health of the mistress of the house, but for several
years the lamentations and anxiety concerning her had been ceaseless. The
young prince's death had startled rather than saddened them. They did not
know him, but it was terrible to die so young and so suddenly. They would
not have listened to a merry tale which stirred them to laughter, but
Biberli's stories of distant lands, of the court, of war, of the
tournament, just suited their present mood, and the narrator was well
pleased to find ready listeners. He had so many things to forget, and he
never succeeded better than when permitted to use his tongue freely. He
wagged it valiantly, too, but when the thunderstorm burst he paused and
went to the window. His narrow face was blanched, and his agile limbs
moved restlessly. Suddenly remarking, "My master will need me," he held
out his hand to Katterle in farewell. But as the zigzag flash of
lightning had just been followed by the peal of thunder, she clung to
him, earnestly beseeching him not to leave her. He yielded, but went out
to learn whether Herr Casper was still in the office, and in a short time
returned, exclaiming angrily: "The old Eysvogel seems to be building his
nest here!"

Then, to the vexation of the clumsy old cook, whom he interrupted by his
restless movements in the Paternosters she was repeating on her rosary,
he began to stride up and down before the hearth.

His light heart had rarely been so heavy. He could not keep his thoughts
from his master, and felt sure that Heinz needed him; that he, Biberli,
would have cause to regret not being with him at this moment. Had the
storm destroyed the Ortlieb mansion he would have considered it only
natural; and as he glanced around the kitchen in search of Katterle, who,
like most of the others, was on her knees with her rosary in her hand,
old Martsche rushed in, hurried up to the cook, shook her as if to rouse
her from sleep, and exclaimed: "Hot water for the blood-letting! Quick!
Our mistress--she'll slip through our hands."

As she spoke, the young kitchen maid Metz helped the clumsy woman up, and
Biberli also lent his aid.

Just as the jug was filled, Els, too, hastened in, snatched it from the
hand of Martsche, whose old feet were too slow for her, and hurried with
it into the entry and up the stairs, passing her father, to whom she had
called on the way down.

Casper Eysvogel stood at the bottom of the steps, and cal