ved Wolf's noble birth. The package that Barbara
handed to her the evening before contained the patent of nobility newly
authorized by King Frederick at Vienna and the certificate of baptism
which proved him to be the only son of the Frank Knight Ullmann
Hartschwert and the Baroness Wendula Sandhof.

His mother's family died with her; on his father's side, as the
precentor had learned, he still had an uncle, his father's older
brother, but his castle had been destroyed during the Peasant War. He
himself had commanded for several years a large troop of mercenaries in
the service of the Queen of England, and his three children, a son and
two daughters, had entered monastic and conventual life.

The contents of the package confirmed all these statements. Moreover,
the very Dr. Hiltner, of whom Barbara's father had spoken so
disagreeably, had paid a visit the day before to Ursel, who had won the
esteem of the preceptor's old friend, and told her that he wished to
talk with Wolf about an important matter.

It afforded the young man genuine pleasure to wait upon the faithful old
woman and give her her medicine and barley-gruel. His mother had brought
him to Ratisbon when he was a little boy four years old, and Ursel at
that time had been his nurse. She had clung more closely to him than the
woman to whom he owed his life, for his mother had deserted him to
take the veil in the convent of the Sisters of St. Clare, but her
maid-servant Ursel would not part from him. So she was received by his
foster parents when they adopted him, and had served them faithfully
until their deaths.

The wrinkled countenance of the old woman, who, even on her sick-bed,
retained her neat appearance, expressed shrewdness and energy.

Wolf's services were a pleasure and an honour. A grateful, affectionate
glance acknowledged each, and meanwhile he became clearly aware of the
treasure which he, the orphaned youth, possessed in this faithful old
friend.

If he saw aright, she might yet live a long time, and this gave him
heartfelt joy. With her he would lose the last witness of his childhood,
the chronicle, as it were, of his earliest youth. He could not
understand why he had never before induced her to tell him her
recollections.

During his boyhood, which was crowded with work, he had been content
when she told him in general outlines that, during the Peasant War,
fierce bands had attacked his father's castle, that one of his own
bondmen had