ou shall throw
first," he pointed to his companion's right hand, and, as it concealed
the red pebble, began the contest. He threw the stone, and struck the
window. Amid loud shouts of exultation from the boys, more than one
round pane of glass, loosened from the leaden casing, rattled in broken
fragments on the church roof, and from thence fell silently on the
grass. Count Lips laughed aloud in his delight, and was preparing to
follow Ulrich's example, but the wooden gate was pushed violently open,
and Brother Hieronymus, the most severe of all the monks, appeared in
the playground. The zealous priest's cheeks glowed with anger, terrible
were the threats he uttered, and declaring that the festival of St.
John should not be celebrated, unless the shameless wretch, who had
blasphemously shattered the steeple window, confessed his fault, he
scanned the pupils with rolling eyes.

Young Count Lips stepped boldly forward, saying beseechingly:

"I did it, Father--unintentionally! Forgive me!"

"You?" asked the monk, his voice growing lower and more gentle, as
he continued: "Folly and wantonness without end! When will you learn
discretion, Count Philipp? But as you did it unintentionally, I will let
it pass for to-day."

With these words, the monk left the court-yard; and as soon as the gate
had closed behind him, Ulrich approached his generous companion, and
said in a tone that only he could hear, yet grateful to the inmost
depths of his heart:

"I will repay you some day."

"Nonsense!" laughed the young count, throwing his arm over the shoulder
of the artisan's son. "If the glass wouldn't rattle, I would throw now;
but there's another day coming to-morrow."

CHAPTER VII.

Autumn had come. The yellow leaves were fluttering about the school
play-ground, the starlings were gathering in flocks on the church roof
to take their departure, and Ulrich would fain have gone with them, no
matter where. He could not feel at home in the monastery and among
his companions. Always first in Richtberg, he was rarely so here, most
seldom of all in school, for his father had forbidden the doctor to
teach him Latin, so in that study he was last of all.

Often, when every one was asleep, the poor lad sat studying by the
ever-burning lamp in the lobby, but in vain. He could not come up with
the others, and the unpleasant feeling of remaining behind, in spite of
the most honest effort, spoiled his life and made him irritable.

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