'And tho' to sting his enemy,
Is sweetness to the angry bee,
The angry bee must busy be,
Ere sweet of sweetness hiveth he.

The arch thrill of his daughter's voice tickled Gottlieb. 'That's it,
birdie! You and the proverb are right. I don't know which is best,

'Better hive
And keep alive
Than vengeance wake
With that you take.'

A clatter in the cathedral square brought Gottlieb on his legs to the
window. It was a company of horsemen sparkling in harness. One trumpeter
rode at the side of the troop, and in front a standard-bearer, matted
down the chest with ochre beard, displayed aloft to the good citizens of
Cologne, three brown hawks, with birds in their beaks, on an azure
stardotted field.

'Holy Cross!' exclaimed Gottlieb, low in his throat; 'the arms of Werner!
Where got he money to mount his men? Why, this is daring all Cologne in
our very teeth! 'Fend that he visit me now! Ruin smokes in that ruffian's
track. I 've felt hot and cold by turns all day.'

The horsemen came jingling carelessly along the street in scattered twos
and threes, laughing together, and singling out the maidens at the
gable-shadowed windows with hawking eyes. The good citizens of Cologne
did not look on them favourably. Some showed their backs and gruffly