The little girl wore a fashionably-made, though shabby dress, shoes and stockings—­the boy was barefoot, and his grey doublet looked scarcely less worn than the short leather breeches, which hardly reached his knees; yet he must have had some regard for his outer man, for a red knot of real silk was fastened on his shoulder.  He could scarcely be the child of a peasant or woodland laborer—­the brow was too high, the nose and red lips were too delicately moulded, the bearing was too proud and free.

Ruth’s last words had given him food for thought, but he left them unanswered until the last bundle of sticks was tied up.  Then he said hesitatingly: 

“My mother—­you know....  I dare not speak of her before father, he goes into such a rage; my mother is said to be very wicked—­but she never was so to me, and I long for her day after day, very, very much, as I long for nothing else.  When I was so high, my mother told me a great many things, such queer things!  About a man, who wanted treasures, and before whom mountains opened at a word he knew.  Of course it’s for such a word your father is seeking.”

“I don’t know,” replied the little girl.  “But the word out of which God made the whole earth and sky and all the stars must have been a very great one.”

Ulrich nodded, then raising his eyes boldly, exclaimed: 

“Ah, if he should find it, and would not keep it to himself, but let you tell me!  I should know what I wanted.”

Ruth looked at him enquiringly, but he cried laughingly:  “I shan’t tell.  But what would you ask?”

“I?  I should ask to have my mother able to speak again like other people.  But you would wish....”

“You can’t know what I would wish.”

“Yes, yes.  You would bring your mother back home again.”

“No, I wasn’t thinking of that,” replied Ulrich, flushing scarlet and fixing his eyes on the ground.

“What, then?  Tell me; I won’t repeat it.”

“I should like to be one of the count’s squires, and always ride with him when he goes hunting.”

“Oh!” cried Ruth.  “That would be the very thing, if I were a boy like you.  A squire!  But if the word can do everything, it will make you lord of the castle and a powerful count.  You can have real velvet clothes, with gay slashes, and a silk bed.”

“And I’ll ride the black stallion, and the forest, with all its stags and deer, will belong to me; as to the people down in the village, I’ll show them!”

Raising his clenched fist and his eyes in menace as he uttered the words, he saw that heavy rain-drops were beginning to fall, and a thunder-shower was rising.

Hastily and skilfully loading himself with several bundles of faggots, he laid some on the little girl’s shoulders, and went down with her towards the valley, paying no heed to the pouring rain, thunder or lightning; but Ruth trembled in every limb.