ined by the late arrivals whom
Cyriax had seen ride up.

It was a stately band. Four aristocratic gentlemen at the head of the
troop were followed by an escort of twenty-five Nuremberg mercenaries,
a gay company whose crimson coats, with white slashes on the puffed
sleeves, presented a showy spectacle. Their helmets and armour glittered
in the bright light of the setting sun of the last day of July, as they
turned their horses in front of the wide gateway of The Blue Pike to
ride into Miltenberg and ask lodgings of the citizens.

The trampling of hoofs, the shouts of command, and the voices of the
gentlemen and their attendants outside attracted many guests to the
doors and windows of the long, whitewashed building.

The strollers, however, kept the place at theirs without difficulty; no
one desired to come near them.

The girl with the bandaged foot had now also turned her face toward the
street. As her gaze rested on the youngest of the Nuremberg dignitaries,
her pale cheeks flushed, and, as if unconsciously, the exclamation: "It
is he!" fell from her lips.

"Who?" asked red-haired Gitta, and was quickly answered in a low tone

"I mean Lienhard, Herr Groland."

"The young one," stuttered Cyriax.

Then, raising the shawl, he continued inquisitively:

"Do you know him? For good or for evil?"

The girl, whose face, spite of its sunken cheeks and the dark rings
under the deep-set blue eyes, still bore distinct traces of former
beauty, started and answered sharply, though not very loudly, for speech
was difficult:

"Good is what you call evil, and evil is what you call good. My
acquaintance with Lienhard, Herr Groland, is my own affair, and, you
may be sure, will remain mine." She glanced contemptuously away from the
others out of doors, but Cyriax, spite of his mutilated tongue, retorted
quickly and harshly:

"I always said so. She'll die a saint yet." Then grasping Kuni's arm
roughly, he dragged her down to him, and whispered jeeringly:

"Ratz has a full purse and sticks to his offer for the cart. If you put
on airs long, he'll get it and the donkey, too, and you'll be left here.
What was it about Groland? You can try how you'll manage on your stump
without us, if we're too bad for you."

"We are not under eternal obligations to you on the child's account,"
added red-haired Gitta in a gentler tone. "Don't vex my husband, or
he'll keep his word about the cart, and who else will be bothered with a
useless