"There are still waters and rivers on earth," interrupted Georg, "and in
the sky the fixed stars remain quiet and the planets cannot cease from
wandering. So among human beings, there are contented persons, who like
their own places, and birds of passage like us. To be sure, you needn't
go to Italy to hear fine singing. I just heard a voice, a voice--"

"Where? You make me eager."

"In the court-yard of Herr Van der Werff's house."

"That was his wife."

"Oh, no! Her voice sounds differently."

During this conversation, Captain Van der Laen had risen and examined the
landlord's singular treasures. He was now standing before a board, on
which the head of an ox was sketched in charcoal, freely, boldly and with
perfect fidelity to nature.

"What magnificent piece of beef is this?" he asked the landlord.

"No less a personage than Frank Floris sketched it," replied Aquanus.
"He once came here from Brussels and called on Meister Artjen. The old
man had gone out, so Floris took a bit of charcoal and drew these lines
with it. When Artjen came home and found the ox's head, he stood before
it a long time and finally exclaimed: 'Frank Floris, or the devil!' This
story--But there comes the burgomaster. Welcome, Meister Peter. A rare
honor."

All the guests rose and respectfully greated Van der Werff; Georg started