After assuring himself of this fact he stood still, rubbing his narrow
forehead with the tips of his fingers.

The rogue was most probably one of the vagrants, and like a flash it
entered his mind that the ropedancer, Kuni, who in her prosperous days,
instead of eating meat and vegetables, preferred to satisfy her appetite
with fruits and sweet dainties, might be the culprit. Besides, when he
had looked around among the guests just before, she was no longer with
the other vagabonds.

Certain of having found the right trail, he instantly went to the window
below which the strollers lay, thrust his head into the room from the
outside, and waked the wife of the tongueless swearer. She had fallen
asleep on the floor with the sewing in her hand. The terror with which
she started up at his call bore no favourable testimony to her good
conscience, but she had already recovered her bold unconcern when he
imperiously demanded to know what had become of lame Kuni.

"Ask the other travellers--the soldiers, the musicians, the monks, for
aught I care," was the scornful, irritating answer. But when Dietel
angrily forbade such insolent mockery, she cried jeeringly:

"Do you think men don't care for her because she has lost her foot and
has that little cough? You ought to know better.

"Master Dieter has a sweetheart for every finger, though the lower part
of his own body isn't quite as handsome as it might be."

"On account of my foot?" the waiter answered spitefully. "You'll soon