“That is the very reason, my son,” the monk interrupted soothingly, “that we disciples of the Saint of Assisi go forth to show the deluded what the Lord requires of them.  Therefore leave behind you the dust of the world, which defiles both body and soul, join us, who did so before you, and help, as one of our order, to make those who are perishing in sin and dishonouring the name of Christ better and purer, genuine Christians.  In this hour of stress lay the sword out of your hand, and leave the steed——­”

“I shall ride forth, rely upon it, holy Father,” Heinz burst forth afresh.  “With the sky-blue of the gracious Virgin, whom I love, on my shield and helmet, I will dash like the angel Michael amongst the Siebenburgs and their followers.  And let me tell you, holy Father—­you who were once a knight also—­if the Mustache, weltering in his blood at my feet, prays for mercy, I’ll teach him——­”

“Son! son!” interrupted the monk again, this time raising his hands imploringly; but Heinz, paying no heed, exclaimed hoarsely: 

“Where did you get this news?”

“From our Berne countryman at the fortress,” replied the servant eagerly; “Brandenstein, Schweppermann, and Heidenab brought the tidings.  The Emperor received them at the gate of the citadel, where he was keeping watch ere he mounted his steed.  He heard him call to the messengers, ’So our Heinz Schorlin will have a hard nut to crack.’”

“Which he will crush after his own heart!” cried Heinz, with flashing eyes.

Then, forcing himself to be calm, he exclaimed in broken sentences, whilst Biberli was helping him put on his armour:  “Your wish, reverend Father, is also mine.  The world—­the sooner I can rid myself of it the better; yet what you describe in the most alluring terms is the peace in your midst, I—­I—­Never, never will my heart be calm until——­”

Here he paused suddenly, struck his breast swiftly and repeatedly with his fists, and continued eagerly:  “Here, Father Benedictus, here are old and strong demands, which you, too, must once have known ere you offered the other cheek to the foe.  I know not what to call them, but until they are satisfied I shall never be yours.  They must be fulfilled; then, if in battle and bloodshed I can also forget the love which ever rises again when I think I have given it the deathblow, if Heaven still desires poor, heartsick Heinz Schorlin, it shall have him.”

The Minorite received the promise with a silent bend of the head.  He felt that he might seriously endanger the fulfilment of his ardent wish to gain this soul for heaven if he urged Heinz further now.  Patiently awaiting a more fitting season, he therefore contented himself with questioning him carelessly about the foe and his castles.

The day was hot, and as Biberli laced the gambeson—­the thick, quilted undergarment over which was worn the heavy leather coat covered with scales and rings—­the monk exclaimed:  “When the duty which you believe you owe to the world has been fulfilled, you will gratefully learn, as one of our order, how pleasant it is to walk with liberated soul in our light-brown cowl.”