beams of the ceiling; and we for certain knew every game that was worthy
to be named.

But by this time all this was past and gone; only the love of song would
never die out in the dwelling of the man who had been well-pleased to
hear himself called by his fellows "Schopper the Singer." Ah! how
marvellous well did their voices sound, Ann's and my brother's, when they
sang German songs to the lute or the mandoline, or perchance Italian
airs, as they might choose. But there was one which I could never weary
of hearing and which, meseemed, must work on Herdegen's wayward heart as
a cordial. The words were those of Master Walther von der Vogelweirde,
and were as follows:

"True love is neither man nor maid,
No body hath nor yet a soul,
Nor any semblance here below,
Its name we hear, itself unknown.
Yet without love no man may win
The grace and favor of the Lord.
Put then thy trust in those who love;
In no false heart may Love abide."

And when they came to the last lines Kunz would ofttimes join in, taking
the bass part or continuo to the melody. Otherwise he kept modestly in
the background, for since he had come to know that Herdegen and Ann were
of one mind he waited on her as a true and duteous squire, while he was
now more silent than in past time, and in his elder brother's presence
almost dumb. Yet at this I marvelled not, inasmuch as I many a time
marked that brethren are not wont to say much to each other, and even
between friends the one is ready enough to be silent if the other takes