lrich! Heavens and earth!" cried Eitelfritz;--but
suddenly interrupted himself; for the sibyl, who had risen from the table
to bring the envoy, with her own hands, a larger goblet of wine, dropped
the beaker close beside him.

Zorrillo and he hastily sprung to support the tottering woman, who was
almost fainting. But she recovered herself, waving them back with a mute
gesture.

All eyes were fixed upon her, and every one was startled; for she stood
as if benumbed, her bright, youthful face had suddenly become aged and
haggard. "What is the matter?" asked Zorrillo anxiously. Recovering her
self-control, she answered hastily "The thunder, the storm. . . ."

Then, with short, light steps, she went back to the table, and as she
resumed her seat the bell for evening prayers was heard outside.

Most of the company rose to obey the summons.

"Good-bye till to-morrow morning, Sergeant! The election will take place
early to-morrow."

"A Dios, a Dios, hasta mas ver, Sibila, a Dios!" was loudly shouted, and
soon most of the guests had left the tent.

Those who remained behind were scattered among the different tables.
Ulrich sat at one alone with Hans Eitelfritz.

The lansquenet had declined Zorrillo's invitation to join him; an old
friend from Madrid was present, with whom he wished to talk over happier
days. The other willingly assented; for what he had intended to say to
his companions was against Ulrich and his views. The longer the
sergeant-major detained him the better. Everything that recalled Master
Moor was dear to Ulrich, and as soon as he was alone with Hans
Eitelfritz, he again greeted him in a strange mixture of Spanish and
German. He had forgotten his home, but still retained a partial
recollection of his native language. Every one supposed him to be a
Spaniard, and he himself felt as if he were one.

Hans Eitelfritz had much to tell Ulrich; he had often met Moor in
Antwerp, and been kindly received in his studio.

What pleasure it afforded Navarrete to hear from the noble artist, how he
enjoyed being able to speak German again after so many years, difficult
as it was. It seemed as if a crust melted away from his heart, and none
of those present had ever seen him so gay, so full of youthful vivacity.
Only one person knew that he could laugh and play noisily, and this one
was the beautiful woman at the long table, who knew not whether she
should die of joy, or sink into the earth with shame.

She had take