gry
and so heart-broken, and he had never seen any bigger place than little
Zirl.

He stood and looked wistfully, but no one offered him anything. Close
by was a stall of splendid purple grapes, but the old woman that kept it
was busy knitting. She only called to him to stand out of her light.

"You look a poor brat; have you a home?" said another woman, who sold
bridles and whips and horses' bells, and the like.

"Oh, yes, I have a home,--by Martinswand," said Findelkind, with a sigh.

The woman looked at him sharply. "Your parents have sent you on an
errand here?"

"No; I have run away."

"Run away? Oh, you bad boy!--unless, indeed,--are they cruel to you?"

"No; very good."

"Are you a little rogue, then, or a thief?"

"You are a bad woman to think such things," said Findelkind, hotly,
knowing himself on how innocent and sacred a quest he was.

"Bad? I? Oh, ho!" said the old dame, cracking one of her new whips in
the air, "I should like to make you jump about with this, you thankless
little vagabond. Be off!"

Findelkind sighed again, his momentary anger passing; for he had been
born with a gentle temper, and thought himself to blame much more
readily than he thought other people were,--as, indeed, every wise child
does, only there are so few children--or men--that are wise.

He turned his head away from the temptation of the bread and fruit
stalls, for in truth hunger gnawed him terribly, and wandered a little
to the left. From where he stood he could see the long, beautiful street
of Teresa, with its oriels and arches, painted windows and gilded signs,
and the steep, gray, dark mountains closing it in at the distance; but
the street frightened him, it looked so grand, and he knew it would
tempt him; so he went where he saw the green tops of some high elms and
beeches. The trees, like the dogs, seemed like friends. It was the human
creatures that were cruel.

At that moment there came out of the barrack gates, with great noise
of trumpets and trampling of horses, a group of riders in gorgeous
uniforms, with sabres and chains glancing and plumes tossing. It looked
to Findelkind like a group of knights,--those knights who had helped and
defended his namesake with their steel and their gold in the old days
of the Arlberg quest. His heart gave a great leap, and he jumped on the
dust for joy, and he ran forward and fell on his knees and waved his cap
like a little mad thing, and cried out:

"Oh, dear kn