liar with two fillies, that were perfect fiends for refractoriness,
and the fair-haired boy could show his gratitude for the schooling he
received, by making himself useful in the stable.

Ulrich must go to the monastery, so Benedictus curtly declared with the
utmost positiveness, after the smith had finished his work. At midsummer
a place would be vacant in the school, and this should be reserved for
the boy. A great favor! What a prospect--to be reared there with
aristocratic companions, and instructed in the art of painting. Whether
he should become a priest, or follow some worldly pursuit, could be
determined later. In a few years the boy could choose without restraint.

This plan would settle everything in the best possible way. The Jew need
not be injured, and the smith's imperiled son would be saved. The monk
would hear no objections. Either the accusation against the doctor should
be laid before the chapter, or Ulrich must go to the school.

In four weeks, on St. John's Day, so Benedictus declared, the smith and
his son might announce their names to the porter. Adam must have saved
many florins, and there would be time enough to get the lad shoes and
clothes, that he might hold his own in dress with the other scholars.

During this whole transaction the smith felt like a wild animal in the
hunter's toils, and could say neither "yes" nor "no." The monk did not
insist upon a promise, but, as he rode away, flattered himself that he
had snatched a soul from the claws of Satan, and gained a prize for the
monastery-school and his stable--a reflection that made him very
cheerful.

Adam retrained alone beside the fire. Often, when his heart was heavy, he
had seized his huge hammer and deadened his sorrow by hard work; but
to-day he let the tool lie, for the consciousness of weakness and lack of
will paralyzed his lusty vigor, and he stood with drooping head, as if
utterly crushed. The thoughts that moved him could not be exactly
expressed in words, but doubtless a vision of the desolate forge, where
he would stand alone by the fire without Ulrich, rose before his mind.
Once the idea of closing his house, taking the boy by the hand, and
wandering out into the world with him, flitted through his brain. But
then, what would become of the Jew, and how could he leave this place?
Where would his miserable wife, the accursed, lovely sinner, find him,
when she sought him again? Ulrich had run out of doors long ago. Had he
g