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For three weeks, Ulrich had not been to the edge of the precipice, from which he had looked down on to the village, and he wanted to go there before climbing the slopes which led to the Wildstrubel. Loeche was now covered by the snow, and the houses could scarcely be distinguished, hidden as they were by that white cloak. Turning to the right, Ulrich reached the Lammern glacier.
The charcoal-burner saw it, and growled: "Come here, little girl; I'll carry you to the sleigh." "No, let me," Ulrich eagerly interposed. And Ruth exclaimed: "Yes, you, you shall carry me." Marx grasped her around the waist, lifted her high into the air, and placed her in the boy's arms. She clasped her hands around his neck, and as he walked on pressed her fresh, cool cheek to his.
The designs were speedily completed, and the triumphal arch erected in a court-yard of the Alcazar, for here, within the narrow circle of the court, not publicly, before the whole population, had the suspicious monarch resolved to receive and honor the victor. Ulrich had again assisted Coello in the execution of his sketches.
He motioned that he understood her, and at eight o'clock the next morning was kneeling by her side at mass, where he took advantage of a favorable opportunity to whisper: "Beautiful Carmen!" The young girl blushed, but he vainly awaited an answer. Carmen now rose, and when Ulrich also stood up to permit her to pass, she dropped her prayer-book, as if by accident.
He liked to linger in the stables, for there he could distinguish himself; but it was also delightful to work, for Moor chose models and designs that pleased the lad, and Sophonisba Anguisciola, who often painted for hours in the studio by the master's side, came to Ulrich in the intervals, looked at what he had finished, helped, praised, or scolded him, and never left him without a jest on her lips.
Ulrich indeed ate little, for he was filled with grief, only sipped a little broth, into which he had crumbled some reindeer cheese, not to appear ungracious; but when dinner was over, he raised his head, and asked Doctor Gerschovius to inform him now in what lay the difference between the prophets of God and those of the devil.
His tear-dimmed eyes sought his mother's features, but only rested on them a moment then he shuddered, turned away, and giving the torch to his companion, said, softly: "Cover her head." The soldier's wife spread her coarse apron over the face, which-had smiled so sweetly: but Ulrich threw himself on his knees beside the coffin, buried his face, and remained in this attitude for many minutes.
Meanwhile the maid had been informed how the duel between Wolff Eysvogel and Ulrich Vorchtel had ended, but while she still clasped her hands in horror, the Swiss had opened the door of a bright, spacious apartment, where Els Ortlieb's betrothed husband received her with a kind though sorrowful greeting. Then he continued his writing, and at last gave her two letters.
Towards noon Coello called Ulrich into Moor's former studio; the youth could not fail to observe its altered appearance. Long cartoons, containing sketches of figures, large paintings, just commenced or half-finished, leaned against the easels; mannikins, movable wooden horse's heads, and plaster-models stood on the floor, the tables, and in the windows.
I am no longer a boy and have fought my way through life without father or mother. What I am, I have made myself, and can defend with honor, even to the old man. He carries heavy guns, I know; but I am not accustomed to shoot with feather balls!" "Ulrich, Ulrich! He is an old man, and your father!" "I will remember that, as soon as he calls me his son."
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