n the year old infant from the basket. It was a pale, puny
little creature, whose father had fallen in battle, and whose mother had
deserted it.

The handsome standard-bearer yonder was called Ulrich! He must be her
son! Alas, and she could only cast stolen glances at him, listen by
stealth to the German words that fell from the beloved lips. Nothing
escaped her notice, yet while looking and listening, her thoughts
wandered to a far distant country, long vanished days; beside the bearded
giant she saw a beautiful, curly-haired child; besides the man's deep
voice she heard clear, sweet childish tones, that called her "mother" and
rang out in joyous, silvery laughter.

The pale child in her arms often raised its little hand to its cheek,
which was wet with the tears of the woman; who tended it. How hard, how
unspeakably, terribly hard it was for this woman, with the youthful face
and white locks, to remain quiet! How she longed to start up and call
joyously to the child, the man, her lover's enemy, but her own, own
Ulrich:

"Look at me, look at me! I am your mother. You are mine! Come, come to my
heart! I will never leave you more!"

Ulrich now laughed heartily again, not suspecting what was passing in a
mother's heart, close beside him; he had no eyes for her, and only
listened to the jests of the German lansquenet, with whom he drained
beaker after beaker.

The strange child served as a shield to protect the camp-sibyl from her
son's eyes, and also to conceal from him that she was watching,
listening, weeping. Eitelfritz talked most and made one joke after
another; but she did not laugh, and only wished he would stop and let
Ulrich speak, that she might be permitted to hear his voice again.

"Give the dog Lelaps a little corner of the settle," cried Hans
Eitelfritz. "He'll get his feet wet on the damp floor--for the rain is
trickling in--and take cold. This choice fellow isn't like ordinary
dogs."

"Do you call the tiger Lelaps?" asked Ulrich. "An odd name."

"I got him from a student at Tubingen, dainty Junker Fritz of Hallberg,
in exchange for an elephant's tusk I obtained in the Levant, and he owes
his name to the merry rogue. I tell you, he's wiser than many learned
men; he ought to be called Doctor Lelaps."

"He's a pretty creature."

"Pretty! More, far more! For instance, at Naples we had the famous
Mortadella sausage for breakfast, and being engaged in eager
conversation, I forgot him. What did my Le