Since Wolff's return from Italy he had become aware that the stream of
gold from the Eysvogel coffers flowed more sparingly, or even failed
altogether to satisfy his extravagant tastes. Therefore his relations
with his brother-in-law, whose prudent caution he considered avarice, and
whose earnest protests against his often unprecedented demands frequently
roused his ire, became more and more unfriendly.

The inmates of the Eysvogel house rendered his home unendurable, and from
the experiences of his bachelor days he knew only too well where mirth
reigned in Nuremberg. So he became a rare guest at the Eysvogels, and
when Isabella found herself neglected and deceived, she made him feel her
resentment in her own haughty and--as soon as she deemed herself
injured--harsh manner.

At first her displeasure troubled him sorely, but the ardent passion
which had absorbed him during the early days of their marriage had died
out, and only flamed up with its old fervour occasionally; but at such
times the haughty, neglected wife repulsed him with insulting severity.

Yet she had never permitted any one to disparage her husband behind his
back. True, Siebenburg did not know this, but he perceived more and more
plainly that both the Eysvogels, father and son, were oppressed by some
grave anxiety, and that the sums which Wolff now paid him no longer
sufficed to hold his creditors in check. He was not accustomed to impose
any restraint upon himself, and thus it soon became known throughout the
city that he did not live at peace with his wife and her family.

Yet five weeks ago matters had appeared to improve. The birth of the
twins had brought something new into his life, which drew him nearer to
Isabella.

The children at first seemed to him two lovely miracles. Both boys, both
exactly like him. When they were brought to him on their white,
lace-trimmed pillows, his heart had swelled with joy, and it was his
greatest delight to gaze at them.

This was the natural result.

He, the stalwart Siebenburg, had not become the father of one ordinary
boy, but of two little knights at once. When he returned home--even if
his feet were unsteady--his first visit was to them, and he had often
felt that he was far too poor and insignificant to thank his neglected
wife aright for so precious a gift.

Whenever this feeling took possession of him he expressed his love to
Isabella with tender humility; while she, who had bestowed her hand upon