near were all empty, except for the women sitting at their stalls
of fruit or cakes, or toys. They are wonderful old arched
arcades, like the cloisters of a cathedral more than anything
else, and the shops under them are all homely and simple,--shops
of leather, of furs, of clothes, of wooden playthings, of sweet
and wholesome bread. They are very quaint, and kept by poor folks
for poor folks; but to the dazed eyes of Findelkind they looked
like a forbidden paradise, for he was so hungry 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."