It was a pleasant, peaceful life, but by-and-by the end came.
Otto was now nearly twelve years old.

One bright, clear day, near the hour of noon, little Otto heard
the porter's bell sounding below in the court-yard - dong! dong!
Brother Emmanuel had been appointed as the boy's instructor, and
just then Otto was conning his lessons in the good monk's cell.
Nevertheless, at the sound of the bell he pricked up his ears
and listened, for a visitor was a strange matter in that out-of-
the-way place, and he wondered who it could be. So, while his
wits wandered his lessons lagged.

"Postera Phoeba lustrabat lampade terras," continued Brother
Emmanuel, inexorably running his horny finger-nail beneath the
line, "humentemque Aurora polo dimoverat umbram -" the lesson
dragged along.

Just then a sandaled footstep sounded without, in the stone
corridor, and a light tap fell upon Brother Emmanuel's door. It
was Brother Ignatius, and the Abbot wished little Otto to come
to the refectory.

As they crossed the court-yard Otto stared to see a group of
mail-clad men-at-arms, some sitting upon their horses, some
standing by the saddle-bow. "Yonder is the young baron," he
heard one of them say in a gruff voice, and thereupon all turned
and stared at him.

A stranger was in the refectory, standing beside the good old