He was the Eletto, and thus men honored the woman who was dear to him!

His mother lay in a wretched pauper's coffin, a ragged camp-follower
watched beside her--no candles burned at her head, no priest prayed for
the salvation of her soul!

Grief was raging madly in his breast, now indignation joined this gloomy
guest; giving vent to his passionate emotion, Ulrich wildly exclaimed:

"Look here, captain! This corpse, this woman--proclaim it to every one
--the sibyl was my mother yes, yes, my own mother! I demand respect for
her, the same respect that is shown myself! Must I compel men to render
her fitting honor? Here, bring torches. Prepare the catafalque in St.
Martin's church, and place it before the altar! Put candles around it,
as many as can be found! It is still early! Lieutenant! I am glad you
are there! Rouse the cathedral priests and go to the bishop. I command
a solemn requiem for my mother! Everything is to be arranged precisely
as it was at the funeral of the Duchess of Aerschot! Let trumpets give
the signal for assembling. Order the bells to be rung! In an hour all
must be ready at St. Martin's cathedral! Bring torches here, I say!
Have I the right to command--yes or no? A large oak coffin was standing
at the joiner's close by. Bring it here, here; I need a better death-
couch for my mother. You poor, dear woman, how you loved flowers, and no
one has brought you even one! Captain Ortis, I have issued my commands!
Everything must be done, when I return;--Lieutenant, you have your
orders!"

He rushed from the death-chamber to the sitting-room in his own house,
and hastily tore stalks and blossoms from the plants. The maid-servants
watched him timidly, and he harshly ordered them to collect what he had