minutes, guided him merely by the pressure of his thighs first at a walk,
then at a trot over the track. At last springing off, he patted Satan,
who pranced peacefully beside him, and led him by the bridle to Don Juan.

The latter measured the tall, brave fellow with a hasty glance, and
turning, half to him, half to Alexander Farnese, said:

"An enviable trick, and admirable performance, by my love!"

Then he approached the stallion, stroked and patted his shining neck, and
continued:

"I thank you, young man. You have saved my best horse. But for you I
should have stabbed him. You are an artist?"

"At your service, Your Highness."

"Your art is beautiful, and you alone know how it suits you. But much
honor, perhaps also wealth and fame, can be gained among my troopers.
Will you enlist?"

"No, Your Highness," replied Ulrich, with a low bow. "If I were not an
artist, I should like best to be a soldier; but I cannot give up my art."

"Right, right! Yet....do you think your cure of Satan will be lasting;
or will the dance begin again to-morrow?"

"Perhaps so; but grant me a week, Your Highness, and the swarthy fellows
can easily manage him. An hour's training like this every morning, and
the work will be accomplished. Satan will scarcely be transformed into