the second and the third time. But when
Biberli paused, and in a few brief sentences cast fresh doubts upon the
writer, Heinz angrily stopped him. "The longing of the godly heart of a
pure maiden--mark this well--has naught in common with that diabolical
delight in secret love--dalliance for which others yearn. My wish to
force my way to her was sinful, and it was punished severely enough, for
during your rude scoffs I felt as though you had set fire to the house
over my head. But from this I perceive in what a sacred, inviolable spot
her image had found a place. True, it is denied you to follow the lofty,
heavenward aspiration of a pure soul--"

"O my lord," interrupted the servitor with hands uplifted in defence,
"who besought you not to measure this innocent daughter of a decorous
household, who was scarcely beyond childhood, by the standard you
applied to others? Who entreated you to spare her fair fame? And if you
deem the stuff of which the servant is made too coarse to understand
what moves so pure a soul, you do Biberli injustice, for, by my patron
saint, though duty commanded me to interpose doubts and scruples between
you and a passion from which could scarcely spring aught that would
bring joy to your mother's heart I, too, asked myself the question
why, in these days, a devout maiden should not long to try her skill in
conversion upon a valiant knight who served her. Ever since St. Francis
of Assisi appeared in Italy, barefooted monks and grey-robed nuns, who
follow him, Franciscans and Sisters of St. Clare stream hither as water
flows into a mill-race when the sluice-gates are opened. With what
edification we, too, listened to the old Minorite whom we picked up by
the wayside, at the tavern where we usually found pleasure in nothing
but drinking, gambling, shouting, and singing! Besides, I know from
my sweetheart with what exemplary devotion the lovely Eva follows St.
Clare."

"Who is now and will remain my patron saint also, old Biber,"
interrupted Heinz with joyful emotion, as he laid his hand gratefully
on his follower's shoulder; then rising and beckoning to the bar-maid,
added: "The stuff of which you are made, old comrade, is inferior to
no man's. Only now and then the pedagogue plays you a trick. Had you
uttered your real opinion in the first place, the wine would have tasted
better to us both. Let Eva try the work of conversion on me! What, save
my lady's love, is more to me than our holy faith? I