after my wet ride. Haven't you a drop in the cellar?"

"No, Father!" replied the smith. But directly after a second thought
occurred to him, and he added: "Yes, I can serve you."

So saying, he opened the cupboard, and when, a short time after, the
monk emptied the first goblet, he uttered a long drawn "Ah!" following
the course of the fiery potion with his hand, till it rested content
near his stomach. His lips quivered a little in the enjoyment of the
flavor; then he looked benignantly with his unusually round eyes at
Adam, saying cunningly:

"If such grapes grow on your pine-trees, I wish the good Lord had given
Father Noah a pine-tree instead of a vine. By the saints! The archbishop
has no better wine in his cellar! Give me one little sip more, and tell
me from whom you received the noble gift?"

"Costa gave me the wine."

"The sorcerer---the Jew?" asked the monk, pushing the goblet away. "But,
of course," he continued, in a half-earnest, half-jesting tone, "when
one considers--the wine at the first holy communion, and at the marriage
of Cana, and the juice of the grapes King David enjoyed, once lay in
Jewish cellars!"

Benedict had doubtless expected a smile or approving word from his host,
but the smith's bearded face remained motionless, as if he were dead.

The monk looked less cheerful, as he began again "You ought not to
grudge yourself a goblet either. Wine moderately enjoyed makes the heart
glad; and you don't look like a contented man. Everything in life has
not gone according to your wishes, but each has his own cross to bear;
and as for you, your name is Adam, and your trials also come from Eve!"

At these words the smith moved his hand from his beard, and began to
push the round leather cap to and fro on his bald head. A harsh answer
was already on his lips, when he saw Ulrich, who had paused on the
threshold in bewilderment. The boy had never beheld any guest at his
father's table except the doctor, but hastily collecting his thoughts
he kissed the monk's hand. The priest took the handsome lad by the chin,
bent his head back, looked Adam also in the face, and exclaimed:

"His mouth, nose and eyes he has inherited from your wife, but the shape
of the brow and head is exactly like yours."

A faint flush suffused Adam's cheeks, and turning quickly to the boy as
if he had heard enough, he cried:

"You are late. Where have you been so long?"

"In the forest with Ruth. We were gathering faggots