and it was with a sad heart that I bid farewell to the woods, to my
uncle, and to Aunt Jacoba, whom I had during my sojourn learnt to love as
was her due. I, like Ann, rode home in a more sober mood than I had come
in; for I was no more a child and an end must ever come to wild mirth.

My new squire Akusch rode behind me, and thus, on a fine November day, we
made our way back to Nuremberg, in good health and spirits. The camels,
the bear, and the monkeys, which had been taken from the vagabonds, were
safely cared for in the Hallergarden, and the rogues themselves had been
hanged God have mercy on their souls!

Ann had had tidings of our home-coming, yet I found her not at our house,
and when I had waited for her till evening, and in vain, I sought her in
her own dwelling. But no sooner had I crossed the threshold of the
Venice house than I was aware that all was not well; inasmuch as that
here, where there were ever half a dozen pairs of little feet hopping up
and down, and no end of music and singing from morning till night, all
was strangely silent. I stood to hearken, and I now perceived that the
metal plate whereon the knocker fell was wrapped in felt.

This foreboded evil, and a vision rose before me of two biers; on one lay
Ann, pale and dumb, and on the other my Cousin Gotz's sweetheart, fair
Gertrude, the copper-smith's daughter. Then I heard steps on the stair
and the vision faded; and I breathed once more, for Ann's grandfather,
the old lute-player Gottlieb Spiesz, came towards me, with deep lines of
sorrow on his kind face and a finger on his lips; and he told me that his
son was lying sick of a violent brain fever, and that Master Ulsenius had
feared the worst since yestereve.

His voice broke with sheer grief; nevertheless his serving lad was