The stroke of apoplexy which had attacked the woman of seventy had been slight, and merely affected her speech a little.  But she found plenty of words to show Wolf how happy it made her to see him again, and to tell him about his foster parents’ last illness and death.

The precentor and organist, aided by Bishop Pangraz Sinzenhofer and Blasius, the captain of the city guard, had endeavoured to collect the papers which proved Wolf’s noble birth.  The package that Barbara handed to her the evening before contained the patent of nobility newly authorized by King Frederick at Vienna and the certificate of baptism which proved him to be the only son of the Frank Knight Ullmann Hartschwert and the Baroness Wendula Sandhof.

His mother’s family died with her; on his father’s side, as the precentor had learned, he still had an uncle, his father’s older brother, but his castle had been destroyed during the Peasant War.  He himself had commanded for several years a large troop of mercenaries in the service of the Queen of England, and his three children, a son and two daughters, had entered monastic and conventual life.

The contents of the package confirmed all these statements.  Moreover, the very Dr. Hiltner, of whom Barbara’s father had spoken so disagreeably, had paid a visit the day before to Ursel, who had won the esteem of the preceptor’s old friend, and told her that he wished to talk with Wolf about an important matter.

It afforded the young man genuine pleasure to wait upon the faithful old woman and give her her medicine and barley-gruel.  His mother had brought him to Ratisbon when he was a little boy four years old, and Ursel at that time had been his nurse.  She had clung more closely to him than the woman to whom he owed his life, for his mother had deserted him to take the veil in the convent of the Sisters of St. Clare, but her maid-servant Ursel would not part from him.  So she was received by his foster parents when they adopted him, and had served them faithfully until their deaths.

The wrinkled countenance of the old woman, who, even on her sick-bed, retained her neat appearance, expressed shrewdness and energy.

Wolf’s services were a pleasure and an honour.  A grateful, affectionate glance acknowledged each, and meanwhile he became clearly aware of the treasure which he, the orphaned youth, possessed in this faithful old friend.

If he saw aright, she might yet live a long time, and this gave him heartfelt joy.  With her he would lose the last witness of his childhood, the chronicle, as it were, of his earliest youth.  He could not understand why he had never before induced her to tell him her recollections.

During his boyhood, which was crowded with work, he had been content when she told him in general outlines that, during the Peasant War, fierce bands had attacked his father’s castle, that one of his own bondmen had slain him with an axe, and that his mother had fled with Wolf to Ratisbon, where her brother lived as provost of the cathedral.  He had invited her, at the outbreak of the peasant insurrection, to place herself under his protection.