he spectators. His jacket of
fine cloth, slashed with silk, the high feather in his cap playing in
the morning breeze, his long sword and his scarf or sash, distinguished
him as a man of quality from among his surrounding neighbours, who were
less adorned than he was, and whose diminutive stature and broad faces
did not set them off to the best advantage beside him.

The good townsfolk felt hurt that the young man did not appear
flattered by the high favour conferred on him in their very presence.
His attitude, also, standing there as he did, with sunken head, and his
arms folded across his breast, they thought did not betoken good
breeding, so especially noticed as he was by an old warrior. Besides
which, the salutation of the general seemed to spread confusion over
his countenance, for he returned it by a slight inclination of the head
only, and followed it with a gloomy though friendly look.

"That gentleman must be a strange fellow," said the chief of the Ulm
weavers to his neighbour, a sturdy armourer; "I would give my Sunday
jacket for such a salute from Fronsberg; but he scarcely notices it.
Would it not be the inquiry of the whole town, what has Fronsberg done
to Master Koehler, that he did not return his salute, for they were
lately like two brothers? 'Oh! they are long acquainted,' would be the
answer, 'they knew each other from their youth up.' But it vexes me
much, that so sensible and superior a man should salute such an
apparent coxcomb."

The armourer, a little old fellow, nodded assent to his friend's
remark. "May God punish me, but you are right, Master Koehler. There are
many other people here, whom he might have noticed. The burgomaster is
on the ground, and my godfather Hans von Besserer, who lives in the
corner house, stands among the crowd also,--both as good as that
youngster! If I were his master, I would soon teach him to bend his
head, though he looks to me, as if it would require an emperor to make
him do so. He must be a man of some consequence, for the secretary to
the council, my neighbour in town, who is otherwise an enemy to
receiving guests, has given him a lodging in his own house."

"Kraft?" asked the weaver, astonished; "but stop, there may be
something in it. He must be a young nobleman, or, likely enough, the
son of the burgomaster of Cologne, who intends to join the army also.
Is that not old John, Kraft's servant, standing there?"

"Yes, that's him," said the armourer, whose