ed as if Ulrich had not called upon Fortune in vain, for as soon
as he closed his eyes, a pleasant dream bore him with gentle hands to
the forge on the market-place, and his mother stood beside the lighted
Christmas-tree, pointing to the new sky-blue suit she had made him, and
the apples, nuts, hobby-horse, and jumping jack, with a head as round
as a ball, huge ears, and tiny flat legs. He felt far too old for such
childish toys, and yet took a certain pleasure in them. Then the vision
changed, and he again saw his mother; but this time she was walking
among the angels in Paradise. A royal crown adorned her golden hair, and
she told him she was permitted to wear it there, because she had been so
reviled, and endured so much disgrace on earth.

When the artist returned from Count von Hochburg's the next morning,
he was not a little surprised to see Ulrich standing before the
recruiting-table bright and well.

The lad's cheeks were glowing with shame and anger, for the clerk of the
muster-rolls and paymaster had laughed in his face, when he expressed
his desire to become a Lansquenet.

The artist soon learned what was going on, and bade his protege
accompany him out of doors. Kindly, and without either mockery or
reproof, he represented to him that he was still far too young for
military service, and after Ulrich had confirmed everything the
painter had already heard from the jester, Moor asked who had given him
instruction in drawing.

"My father, and afterwards Father Lukas in the monastery," replied the
boy. "But don't question me as the little man did last night."

"No, no," said his protector. "But there are one or two more things I
wish to know. Was your father an artist?"

"No," murmured the lad, blushing and hesitating. But when he met the
stranger's clear gaze, he quickly regained his composure, and said:

"He only knew how to draw, because he understood how to forge beautiful,
artistic things."

"And in what city did you live?"

"In no city. Outside in the woods."

"Oho!" said the artist, smiling significantly, for he knew that many
knights practised a trade. "Answer only two questions more; then you
shall be left in peace until you voluntarily open your heart to me. What
is your name?"

"Ulrich."

"I know that; but your father's?"

"Adam."

"And what else?"

Ulrich gazed silently at the ground, for the smith had borne no other
name.

"Well then," said Moor, "we will call you Ulrich for the