otto runs:
"Never grave and always gay."

The nobleman had not grown younger since Ulrich's mother fled into the
world, but his eyes still sparkled joyously and the brick-red hue that
tinged his handsome face between his thick white moustache and his eyes,
announced that he was no less friendly to wine than to fair women. How
well his satin clothes and velvet cloak became him, how beautifully the
white puffs were relieved against the deep blue of his dress! How proudly
the white and yellow plumes arched over his cap, and how delicate were
the laces on his collar and cuffs! His son, the very image of the
handsome father, stood beside him, and the count had laid his hand
familiarly on his shoulder, as if he were not his child, but a friend and
comrade.

"A devil of a fellow!" whispered the count to the abbot. "Did you see the
fair-haired lad's throw? From what house does the young noble come?"

The prelate shrugged his shoulders, and answered smiling:

"From the smithy at Richtberg."

"Does he belong to Adam?" laughed the other. "Zounds! I had a bitter hour
in the confessional on his mother's account. He has inherited the
beautiful Florette's hair and eyes; otherwise he looks like his father.
With your permission, my Lord Abbot, I'll call the boy."

"Afterwards, afterwards," replied the superior of the monastery in a tone
of friendly denial, which permitted no contradiction. "First tell the
boys, what we have decided?"

Count Frohlinger bowed respectfully, then drew his son closer to his
side, and waited for the boys, to whom the abbot beckoned.

As soon as they had gathered in a group before him, the nobleman
exclaimed:

"You have just bid this good-for-nothing farewell. What should you say,
if I left him among you till Christmas? The Lord Abbot will keep him, and
you, you. . . ."

But he had no time to finish the sentence. The pupils rushed upon him,
shouting:

"Stay here, Philipp! Count Lips must stay!"

One little flaxen-headed fellow nestled closely to his regained
protector, another kissed the count's hand, and two larger boys seized
Philipp by the arm and tried to drag him away from his father, back into
their circle.

The abbot looked on at the tumult kindly, and bright tear-drops ran down
into the old count's beard, for his heart was easily touched. When he
recovered his composure, he exclaimed:

"Lips shall stay, you rogues; he shall stay! And the Lord Abbot has given
you permission, to come w