summoned all his strength, and hurled the stone in a beautiful curve high
into the air.

Forty sparkling eyes followed it, and a loud shout of joy rang out as it
vanished behind the church roof. One alone, a tall, thin, black-haired
lad, remained silent, and while the others were begging Ulrich to throw
again, searched for a stone, exerted all his power to equal the 11
"greenhorn," and almost succeeded. Ulrich now sent a second stone after
the first, and, again the cast was successful. Dark-browed Xaver
instantly seized a new missile, and the contest that now followed so
engrossed the attention of all, that they saw and heard nothing until a
deep voice, in a firm, though not unkind tone, called: "Stop, boys!
No games must be played with the church."

At these words the younger boys hastily dropped the stones they had
gathered, for the man who had shouted, was no less a personage than the
Lord Abbot himself.

Soon the lads approached to kiss the ecclesiastic's hand or sleeve, and
the stately priest, who understood how to guide those subject to him by a
glance of his dark eyes, graciously and kindly accepted the salutation.

"Grave in office, and gay in sport" was his device. Count von
Frohlinger, who had entered the garden with him, looked like one whose
motto runs: "Never grave and always gay."

The nobleman had not grown younger since Ulrich's mother fled into the
world, but his eyes still sparkled joyously and the brick-red hue that
tinged his handsome face between his thick white moustache and his eyes,
announced that he was no less friendly to wine than to fair women. How