him, in spite of her husband, the reckless Sir Seitz Siebenburg, in whose
hands the gold paid from the coffers of the firm melted away, yet who was
burdened with a mountain of debts.

Wolff had left orders at home to have his horse saddled. He had intended
only to wave a greeting to his Els and then ride to Neumarkt, or, if
necessary, as far as Ingolstadt, to meet the wains.

A word of farewell to the new acquaintance, who was probably destined to
be his brother-in, law, and then--But just at that moment Heinz
approached, and in reply to Wolff's low question "And your lady's
colour?" he answered joyously, pointing to the breast of his doublet:
"I am carrying the messenger which promises to inform me, here on my
heart. In the darkness it was silent; but the bright moonlight yonder
will loose its tongue, unless the characters here are too unlike those of
the prayer-book."

Drawing out Eva's little roll as he spoke, he approached a brightly
lighted spot, pointed to the ribbon which fastened it, and exclaimed:
"Doubtless she used her own colour to tie it. Blue, the pure, exquisite
blue of her eyes! I thought so Forget-me-not blue! The most beautiful
of colours. You must pardon my impatience!"

He was about to begin to read the lines; but Wolff stopped him by
pointing to the Ortlieb residence and to two drunken soldiers who came
out of the tavern "For Thirsty Troopers," and walked, singing and
staggering, up the opposite side of the street. Then, extending his hand
to Heinz in farewell, he asked in a low tone, pointing to Biberli's
figure just emerging from the shade, who was the messenger of love who
served him so admirably.