eloved one, from whom he had so long been
parted; whatever separated him from his old father, must surely vanish
into nothing, as soon as they looked into each other's eyes.

What a master in his trade, his father still was! No one else would have
found it so easy to forge the steel coat of mail with the Medusa head in
the centre. He was not working alone here as he did at Richtberg; for
Ulrich heard more than one hammer striking iron in the workshop.

Before touching the knocker, he looked into the open window.

A woman's tall figure was standing at the desk. Her back was turned, and
he saw only the round outline of the head, the long black braids, the
plain dress, bordered with velvet, and the lace in the neck. An elderly
man in the costume of a merchant was just holding out his hand in
farewell, and he heard him say: "You've bought too cheap again, far too
cheap, Jungfer Ruth."

"Just a fair price," she answered quietly. "You will have a good profit,
and we can afford to pay it. I shall expect the iron day after
to-morrow."

"It will be delivered before noon. Master Adam has a treasure in you,
dear Jungfer. If my son were alive, I know where he would seek a wife.
Wilhelm Ykens has told me of his troubles; he is a skilful goldsmith. Why
do you give the poor fellow no hope? Consider! You are past twenty, and
every year it grows harder to say yes to a lover."

"Nothing suits me better, than to stay with father," she answered gaily.
"He can't do without me, you know, nor I without him. I have no dislike
to Wilhelm, but it seems very easy to live without him. Farewell, Father
Keulitz."

Ulrich withdrew from the window, until the merchant had vanished down a
side street; then he again glanced into the narrow room. Ruth was now
seated at the desk, but instead of looking over the open account book,
her eyes were gazing dreamily into vacancy, and the Eletto now saw her
beautiful, calm, noble face. He did not disturb her, for it seemed as if
he could never weary of comparing her features with the fadeless image
his memory had treasured during all the vicissitudes of life.

Never, not even in Italy, had he beheld a nobler countenance. Philipp was
right. There was something royal in her bearing. This was the wife of his
dreams, the proud woman, with whom the Eletto desired to share power and
grandeur. And he had already held her once in his arms! It seemed as if
it were only yesterday. His heart throbbed higher and highe