"If the earth should swallow up Nuremberg tonight it would not surprise
me. But over yonder--look, Biber, the Duke of Pomerania's quarters in
the Green Shield are still lighted. I'll wager that they are yet at the
gaming table. A plague upon it! I would be there, too, if my purse
allowed. I feel as if yonder dead man and his coffin were burdening my
soul. If it was really good fortune in love that snatched the zecchins
from my purse yesterday:

"Then," cried Biberli eagerly, "to-night is the very time, ere Countess
Cordula teaches you to forget what troubles you, to win them back. The
gold for the first stake is at your disposal."

"From the Duke of Pomerania, you think?" asked Heinz; then, in a quick,
resolute tone, added: "No! Often as the duke has offered me his purse,
I never borrow from my peers when the prospect of repayment looks so
uncertain."

"Gently, my lord," returned Biberli, slapping his belt importantly.
"Here is what you need for the stake as your own property. No miracles
have been wrought for us, only I forgot But look! There are the black
clouds rolling northward over the castle. That was a frightful storm!
But a spendthrift doesn't keep house long-and the thunder has not yet
followed that last flash of lightning. There is plenty of uproar without
it. It's hard work to hear one's self speak amid all the ringing,
trumpeting, yelling, and shrieking. It seems as if they expected to
put out the fire with noise. The fathers of the city can attend to that.
It doesn't appear to disturb the duke and his guests at their dice; and
here, my lord, are fifty florins which, I think, will do for the
beginning."