‘Him?  What for, my father?  How dared they!  What has he done?’

’O, start not, my fairy maid!  A small matter of breakage, pet!  He tried to enter Cunigonde Schmidt’s chamber, and knocked down her pot of lilies:  for which Berthold Schmidt knocked him down, and our friend here, out of good fellowship, knocked down Berthold.  However, the chief offender is marched off to prison by your trusty guard, and there let him cool himself.  Berthold shall tell you the tale himself:  he’ll be here to breakfast, and receive your orders, mistress commander-in-chief.’

The Goshawk had his eye on Margarita.  Her teeth were tight down on her nether lip, and her whole figure had a strange look of awkwardness, she was so divided with anger.

’As witness of the affair, I think I shall make a clearer statement, fair maiden,’ he interposed.  ’In the first place, I am the offender.  We passed under the window of the Fraulein Schmidt, and ’twas I mounted to greet the lilies.  One shoot of them is in my helm, and here let me present them to a worthier holder.’

He offered the flowers with a smile, and Margarita took them, radiant with gratitude.

‘Our friend Berthold,’ he continued, ’thought proper to aim a blow at me behind my back, and then ran for his comrades.  He was caught, and by my gallant young hero, Farina; concerning whose character I regret that your respected father and I differ:  for, on the faith of a soldier and true man, he’s the finest among the fine fellows I’ve yet met in Germany, trust me.  So, to cut the story short, execution was done upon Berthold by my hand, for an act of treachery.  He appears to be a sort of captain of one of the troops, and not affectionately disposed to Farina; for the version of the affair you have heard from your father is a little invention of Master Berthold’s own.  To do him justice, he seemed equally willing to get me under the cold stone; but a word from your good father changed the current; and as I thought I could serve our friend better free than behind bars, I accepted liberty.  Pshaw!  I should have accepted it any way, to tell the truth, for your German dungeons are mortal shivering ratty places.  So rank me no hero, fair Mistress Margarita, though the temptation to seem one in such sweet eyes was beginning to lead me astray.  And now, as to our business in the streets at this hour, believe the best of us.’

‘I will!  I do!’ said Margarita.

‘Lisbeth!  Lisbeth!’ called Gottlieb.  ’Breakfast, little sister! our champion is starving.  He asks for wurst, milk-loaves, wine, and all thy rarest conserves.  Haste, then, for the honour of Cologne is at stake.’