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As her gaze rested on the youngest of the Nuremberg dignitaries, her pale cheeks flushed, and, as if unconsciously, the exclamation: "It is he!" fell from her lips. "Who?" asked red-haired Gitta, and was quickly answered in a low tone "I mean Lienhard, Herr Groland." "The young one," stuttered Cyriax. Then, raising the shawl, he continued inquisitively: "Do you know him? For good or for evil?"
"It is said," remarked one of the guests, "that Simon of Gitta washed away his sins in fire. And a certain man called Jesus " "He is the worst of them all!" interrupted Eleazar. "A miserable imposter!" At this a man sprang up from a table near the tetrarch's pavilion, and made his way towards the place where Eleazar sat.
This time it was he who was obliged to pull his wife along by the chain, for she had long refused, as if fairly frantic, to desert the dying girl who had nursed her child so faithfully. Again and again the doubly desolate woman looked back toward the companion whom she had abandoned in her suffering until they reached Frankfort. There Gitta left Cyriax and accompanied Ratz.
"A Groland?" asked Gitta, Cyriax's wife, cowering as if threatened with a blow from an invisible hand. "It was he " "He?" laughed the chain-bearer, while he crouched beside her, drawing himself into the smallest space possible. "No, Redhead! The devil dragged the man who did that down to the lower regions long ago, on account of my tongue. It's his son. The younger, the sharper.
Red-haired Gitta was sewing another patch of cloth upon her rough husband's already well-mended jerkin by the dim light of a small lamp, into which she had put some fat and a bit of rag for a wick. It was difficult to thread the needle.
But he had no reason to repent this; Gitta had enough to do to lead him by the chain and answer the questions of the people, while Kuni nursed her charge with rare fidelity, mended the clothing of the father, mother, and child, as well or as badly as she could, and also helped Gitta with the cooking.
"A Groland?" asked Gitta, Cyriax's wife, cowering as if threatened with a blow from an invisible hand. "It was he " "He?" laughed the chain-bearer, while he crouched beside her, drawing himself into the smallest space possible. "No, Redhead! The devil dragged the man who did that down to the lower regions long ago, on account of my tongue. It's his son. The younger, the sharper.
Red-haired Gitta was sewing another patch of cloth upon her rough husband's already well-mended jerkin by the dim light of a small lamp, into which she had put some fat and a bit of rag for a wick. It was difficult to thread the needle.
"I've just heard of that from another quarter," he interrupted. "What I want to know is whether she pleased the eyes of men." "What's that to you?" interposed red-haired Gitta jealously, trying to draw him away from Gundel by the chain. Raban laughed heartily, and lame Jungel, chuckling, rapped on the floor with his right crutch, exclaiming: "Good for you!"
So we met, and when I admit that I am grateful to him for it, you know all." "H'm," replied Cyriax, giggling, as he nudged his wife in the side and made remarks concerning what he had just heard which induced even red-haired Gitta to declare that the loss of his tongue was scarcely a misfortune. Kuni indignantly turned her back upon the slanderer and gazed out of the window again.
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