cended the ladder to his watch-tower,
but he did not notice him until he stood on the balcony by his side,
greeting him with his deep voice.

"Where have we been, Herr Wilhelm?" asked the old man. "In this
cloth-weaving Leyden? No! Probably with the goddess of music on Olympus,
if she has her abode there."

"Rightly guessed," replied Wilhelm, pushing the hair back from his
forehead with both hands. "I have been visiting her, and she sends you a
friendly greeting."

"Then offer one from me in return," replied the other, "but she usually
belongs to the least familiar of my acquaintances. My throat is better
suited to drinking than singing. Will you allow me?"

The fencing-master raised the jug of beer which Wilhelm's mother filled
freshly every day and placed in her darling's room, and took a long pull.
Then wiping his moustache, he said:

That did me good, and I needed it. The men wanted to go out pleasuring
and omit their drill, but we forced them to go through it, Junker von
Warmond, Duivenvoorde and I. Who knows how soon it may be necessary to
show what we can do. Roland, my fore man, such imprudence is like a
cudgel, against which one can do nothing with Florentine rapiers, clever
tierce and quarto. My wheat is destroyed by the hail."

"Then let it he, and see if the barley and clover don't do better,"
replied Wilhelm gaily, tossing vetches and grains of wheat to a large
dove that had alighted on the parapet of his tower.

"It eats, and what use is it?" cried Allertssohn, looking at the dove.
"Herr von Warmond, a young man after God's own heart, has just brought me
two falcons; do you want to see bow I tame them?"

"No, Captain, I have enough to do with my music and my doves."

"That is your affair. The long-necked one yonder is a queer-looking
fellow."

"And of what country is he probably a native? There he goes to join the
others. Watch him a little while and then answer me."

"Ask King Soloman that; he was on intimate terms with birds."

"Only watch him, you'll find out presently."

"The fellow has a stiff neck, and holds his head unusually high."

"And his beak?"

"Curved, almost like a hawk's! Zounds, why does the creature strut about
with its toes so far apart? Stop, bandit! He'll peck that little dove to
death. As true as I live, the saucy rascal must be a Spaniard!"

"Right, it is a Spanish dove. It flew to me, but I can't endure it and
drive it away; for I keep only a few pairs of the same