“A wolf?” asked Eva, opening her large eyes as wide as if they beheld some terrible object.  But she soon laughed softly, and added quietly:  “But a very harmless wolf, who humbly changes his nature when the right hand strokes him.  How you stare at me!  I am not thinking of your beloved Wolff, whom you have tamed tolerably well, but the wolf of Gubbio, which did so much mischief, and to which St. Francis went forth, accosted him as Brother Wolf, and reminded him that they both owed their lives to the goodness of the same divine Father.  The animal seemed to understand this, for it nodded to him.  The saint now made a bargain with the wolf, which gave him its paw in pledge of the oath; and it kept the promise, for it followed St. Francis into the city, and never again harmed anyone.  The citizens of Gubbio fed the good beast, and when it died sincerely mourned it.  If you wish to know from whom I heard this edifying story—­which is true, and can be confirmed by some one now in Nuremberg who witnessed it—­let me tell you that it was the wicked wolf himself; not the Gubbio one, but he from Switzerland.  An old Minorite monk, to whom he compassionately gave his horse, is the witness I mentioned.  At the tavern the priest told him what he had beheld with his own eyes.  Do you still inveigh against the dangerous beast, which acts like the good Samaritan, and finds nothing more delightful than hearing or speaking of our dear saint?”

“And this in the Town Hall during the dance?” asked Els, clasping her hands as if she had heard something unprecedented.

Eva, fairly radiant with joy, nodded assent; and Els heard the ring of pleasure in her clear voice, too, as she exclaimed:  “That was just what made the ball so delightful.  The dancing!  Oh, yes, it is easy enough to walk and turn in time to the music when one has such a knight for a partner; but that was by no means the pleasantest part of it.  During the interval—­it seemed but an instant, yet it really lasted a considerable time—­we first entered into conversation.”

“In one of the side rooms?” asked Els, the bright colour fading from her cheeks.

“What are you thinking of?” replied Eva in a tone of offence.  “I believe I know what is seemly as well as anybody else.  True, your Countess Cordula did not set the most praiseworthy example.  She allowed the whole throng of knights to surround her in the ante-room, and your future brother-in-law, Siebenburg, outdid them all.  We—­Heinz Schorlin and I—­sat near the Emperor’s table in the great hall, where everybody could see us.  There the conversation naturally passed from the old Minorite to the holy founder of his order, and remained there.  And if ever valiant knight possessed a devout mind, it is Heinz Schorlin.  Whoever goes into battle without relying upon God and his saints,’ he said, ’will find his courage lack wings, and his armour the surest defensive ‘weapon.’”

“In the ballroom!” again fell from her sister’s lips in the same tone of amazement.