“Look yonder, Biberli!” he exclaimed.  “The holy-water basin on the door-post, the escutcheon on the lintel above, the helmet, which would probably bear my weight.  From there I can reach the window-sill with my hand, and once I have grasped it, I need only make one bold spring and, hurrah!  I’m on it.”

“May our patron saint have mercy on us!” cried the servant in horror.  “You can get there as easily as you can spring on your two feet over two horses; but the coming down would certainly be a long distance lower than you would fancy—­into the ‘Hole,’ as they call the prison here, and, moreover, though probably not until some time later, straight to the flames of hell; for you would have committed a great sin against a noble maiden rich in every virtue, who deemed you worthy of her love.  And, besides, there are two Es.  They occupy the same room, and the house is full of men and maid servants.”

“Pedagogue!” said the knight, peevishly.

“Ay, that was Biberli’s calling once,” replied the servant, “and, for the sake of your lady mother at home, I wish I were one still, and you, Sir Heinz, would have to obey me like an obedient pupil.  You are well aware that I rarely use her sacred name to influence you, but I do so now; and if you cherish her in your heart and do not wish to swoop down on the innocent little dove like a destroying hawk, turn your back upon this place, where we have already lingered too long.”

But this well-meant warning seemed to have had brief influence upon the person to whom it was addressed.  Suddenly, with a joyous:  “There she is!” he snatched his cap from his head and waved a greeting to the window.

But in a few minutes he replaced it with a petulant gesture of the hand, saying sullenly:  “Vanished!  She dared not grant me a greeting, because she caught sight of you.”

“Let us thank and praise a kind Providence for it,” said his servitor with a sigh of relief, “since our Lord and Saviour assumed the form of a servant, that of a scarecrow, in which he has done admirable service, is far too noble and distinguished for Biberli.”

As he spoke he walked on before the knight, and pointing to the tavern beside the Frauenthurm whose sign bore the words “For Thirsty Troopers,” he added:  “A green bush at the door.  That means, unless the host is a rogue, a cask fresh broached.  I wonder whether my tongue is cleaving to my palate from dread of your over-hasty courage, or whether it is really so terribly sultry here!”

“At any rate,” Heinz interrupted, “a cup of wine will harm neither of us; for I myself feel how oppressive the air is.  Besides, it is light in the tavern, and who knows what the little note will tell me.”

Meanwhile they passed the end of St. Klarengasse and went up to the green bush, which projected from the end of a pole far out into the street.

Soldiers in the pay of the city, and men-at-arms in the employ of the Emperor and the princes who had come to attend the Reichstag, were sitting over their wine in the tavern.  From the ceiling hung two crossed iron triangles, forming a six-pointed star.  The tallow candles burning low in their sockets, which it contained, and some pitch-pans in the corners, diffused but a dim light through the long apartment.