Kuni was accustomed to such outbursts of merriment. They were almost
always awakened by some trifle, and this time she did not even hear the
laughing. But Cyriax struck his wife so rudely on the hand that she
jerked furiously at the chain and, with a muttered oath, blew on the
bruised spot. Meanwhile Gundel was telling the group how many
distinguished gentlemen had formerly paid court to Kuni. She was as
agile as a squirrel. Her pretty little face, with its sparkling blue
eyes, attracted the men as bacon draws mice. Then, pleased to have
listeners, she related how the girl had lured florins and zecchins from
the purse of many a wealthy ecclesiastic. She might have been as rich as
the Fuggers if she hadn't met with the accident and had understood how to
keep what she earned. But she could not hold on to her gold. She had
flung it away like useless rubbish. So long as she possessed anything
there had been no want in Loni's company. She, Gundel, had caught her
arm more than once when she was going to fling Hungarian ducats, instead
of coppers, to good-for-nothing beggars. She had often urged her, too,
to think of old age, but Kuni--never cared for any one longer than a few
weeks, though there were some whom she might easily have induced to offer
her the wedding ring.

She glanced at Kuni again, but, perceiving that the girl did not yet
vouchsafe her even a single look, she was vexed, and, moving nearer to
Cyriax, she added in a still lower tone:

"A more inconstant, faithless, colder heart than hers I never met, even
among the most disorderly of Loni's band; for, blindly as the infatuated
lovers obeyed every one of her crazy whims, she laughed at the best and
truest. 'I hate them all,' she would say. 'I wouldn't let one of them
even touch me with the tip of his finger if I could not use their