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This white hair harmonized admirably with the red cheeks of the camp- sibyl, who appreciating the fact, did not dye it. During Zorrillo's speech her eyes more than once rested on Ulrich with a strangely intense expression. As soon as he paused, she went back again behind the table to the crying child, to cradle it in her arms.
"A Dios, a Dios, hasta mas ver, Sibila, a Dios!" was loudly shouted, and soon most of the guests had left the tent. Those who remained behind were scattered among the different tables. Ulrich sat at one alone with Hans Eitelfritz. The lansquenet had declined Zorrillo's invitation to join him; an old friend from Madrid was present, with whom he wished to talk over happier days.
His orders were obeyed, and when he next appeared at Zorrillo's quarters, the soldiers, who had assembled there in throngs, parted to make way for him. He beckoned to them, and while he went from one to another, saying: "The sibyl was my mother Zorrillo has murdered my mother," the coffin was borne into the house.
All these thoughts darted through his brain; but strangely enough, they melted like morning mists when the sun rises, before the feeling of joy that he had his mother again. Her image did not rise before his memory in Zorrillo's tent, but framed by balsams and wall-flowers.
His orders were obeyed, and when he next appeared at Zorrillo's quarters, the soldiers, who had assembled there in throngs, parted to make way for him. He beckoned to them, and while he went from one to another, saying: "The sibyl was my mother Zorrillo has murdered my mother," the coffin was borne into the house.
All these thoughts darted through his brain; but strangely enough, they melted like morning mists when the sun rises, before the feeling of joy that he had his mother again. Her image did not rise before his memory in Zorrillo's tent, but framed by balsams and wall-flowers.
In Zorrillo's tent, which was usually brightly lighted until a late hour of the night, only one miserable brand was burning, beside which sat the sleepy bar-maid, darning a hole in her frieze-jacket. The girl did not expect any one, and started when the door of the tent was violently torn open, and her master, followed by two newly-appointed captains, came straight up to her.
All these thoughts darted through his brain; but strangely enough, they melted like morning mists when the sun rises, before the feeling of joy that he had his mother again. Her image did not rise before his memory in Zorrillo's tent, but framed by balsams and wall-flowers.
His orders were obeyed, and when he next appeared at Zorrillo's quarters, the soldiers, who had assembled there in throngs, parted to make way for him. He beckoned to them, and while he went from one to another, saying: "The sibyl was my mother Zorrillo has murdered my mother," the coffin was borne into the house.
"A Dios, a Dios, hasta mas ver, Sibila, a Dios!" was loudly shouted, and soon most of the guests had left the tent. Those who remained behind were scattered among the different tables. Ulrich sat at one alone with Hans Eitelfritz. The lansquenet had declined Zorrillo's invitation to join him; an old friend from Madrid was present, with whom he wished to talk over happier days.
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