street lowed, grunted, and cackled merrily in the dawn of the young day.

Gay young men, travelling students who had sought cheap quarters in the
country, now entered the city with a merry song on their lips just shaded
by the first down of manhood, and when a maiden met them she lowered her
eyes modestly before the riotous fellows.

The terrors of the frightful thunderstorm seemed forgotten. Nuremberg
looked gladsome; a carpet hung from many a bow-window, and flags and
streamers fluttered from roofs and balconies to honour the distinguished
guests. Many signs of their presence were visible, squires and
equerries, in their masters' colours, were riding spirited horses, and
a few knights who loved early rising were already in the saddle, their
shining helmets and coats of mail flashing brightly in the sunshine.

The gigantic figure of Sir Seitz Siebenburg moved with drooping head
through the budding joy of this June day towards the Eysvogel dwelling.

His gloomy, haggard face and disordered attire made two neatly dressed
young shoemaker's apprentices, on their way to their work, nudge each
other and look keenly at him.

"I'd rather meet him here in broad daylight among houses and people than
in the dusk on the highway," remarked one of them.

"There's no danger," replied the other. "He wears the curb now. He
moved from the robber nest into the rich Eysvogel house opposite. That's
Herr Casper's son-in-law. But such people can never let other folks'
property alone. Only here they work in another way. The shoes he wears
were made in our workshop, but the master still whistles for his pay,