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The imperial delegates, Melchior, Bishop of Brixen, and Conrad Stürzl, Chancellor of the King of the Romans, first read aloud the privileges in their master's name, and then invested Lodovico with the ducal cap and mantle, and placed the sceptre and sword of state in his hands.
"Do you read my books?" The other began a halting answer to the effect that everybody read Conrad Lagrange's books. But the distinguished author interrupted; "Don't take the trouble to lie out of politeness. I shall ask you to tell me about them and you will be in a hole." The young man laughed as he said, with straight-forward frankness, "I have read only one, Mr. Lagrange." "Which one?"
Now, Grebel, the father of Conrad, the leader of the Anabaptists, is beheaded. He, who stood in the highest consideration amongst us, had received from the Emperor, the King of France and the Pope more than 1000 gold-florins under pretence of benefits bestowed on his son. Several escaped, for the gates were negligently guarded; one on a cart, concealed under a load of rubbish and dung.
But realist as Conrad is, he is also a poet who knows, as he says himself, that "the power of sound has always been greater than the power of sense." In his little-known study of Henry James he wrote: "All creative art is magic, is evocation of the unseen in forms persuasive, enlightening, familiar, and surprising," and finally, "Fiction is history, human history, or it is nothing."
Moreover, a very ample allowance had been made for the education of her only legitimate son, Conrad, the other having perished by an accident on the day of his father's death. While Don John of Austria was, gathering laurels in Granada, his half-brother, Pyramus junior, had been ingloriously drowned in a cistern at Ghent. Barbara's expenses were exorbitant; her way of life scandalous.
Conrad Gesner records an ingenious device of an old surgeon who succeeded in extracting an arrow which had resisted all previous attempts, by placing the subject in the very position in which he was at the time of reception of the wound. The following noteworthy case shows that the bladder may be penetrated by an arrow or bullet entering the buttocks of a person on horseback.
At lunch, the next day, Conrad Lagrange greeted the artist in his bitterest humor. "And how is the famous Aaron King, to-day? I trust that the greatest portrait painter of the age is well; that the hotel people have been properly attentive to the comfort of their illustrious guest?
This could not go on forever. All the world was talking about it. The Duke was beginning to look perplexed. Poor Conrad was becoming a very ghost through dread and dire distress. One day as he was emerging from a private ante-room attached to the picture gallery, Constance confronted him, and seizing both his hands, in hers, exclaimed: "Oh, why, do you avoid me?
His tall body was enveloped in a great, shaggy fur coat right down to the feet, and a white nightcap covered his head. Nothing but the moustache on the pale face indicated the warlike calling of the man who now addressed Conrad. 'How many people have come to live in your town on account of the siege? 'Oh, they might be somewhere in the sixties, replied Conrad, carefully conformable to truth.
The great halls of the palace were thronged with nobles, who welcomed Conrad bravely; and so bright and happy did all things seem, that he felt his fears and sorrows passing away and giving place to a comforting contentment. But in a remote apartment of the palace a scene of a different nature was transpiring. By a window stood the Duke's only child, the Lady Constance.
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