"By Saint Bacchus--if there be such a saint in the calendar, there is
stuff in the lad, my boy!" cried burly Uncle Christian Pfinzing, and
he thumped the table with his fists so that all the vessels rang. His
tongue was still somewhat heavy, but he had mended much in the three
weeks since Ann had departed, and it was hard enough by this time to get
him away from the wine-jug.

It was in the refectory of the forest lodge that he had thus delivered
himself to my Uncle Conrad and Jost Tetzel, Ursula's father; and it was
of my brother Herdegen that he spoke.

Herdegen was healed of his bruises and his light limbs had never been
more nimble than now; still he bore his left arm in a sling, for there it
was, said he, that the horse's hoof had hit him. Whither the horse had
fled none had ever heard; nor did any man enquire, inasmuch as it was
only Eppelein's nag, and my granduncle had given him a better one.

My silly brain, from the first, had been puzzled to think wherefor my
brother should have taken that nag to ride to see his guardian, who
thought more than other men of a good horse. And in truth I was not
far from guessing rightly, so I will forthwith set down whither indeed
my dear brother's horse had vanished, and by what chance and hap he had
fallen into so evil a plight.

He had aforetime met the young wench on his way from Padua to Nuremberg,
not far from Dachau and had then and there begun his tricks with her,
giving her to wit that she might find him again at the forest lodge in
the Lorenzer wall. Now when matters took so ill a turn, he pledged
himself to get her safe away from the dungeon cell. To this end he