The monk looked less cheerful, as he began again “You ought not to grudge yourself a goblet either.  Wine moderately enjoyed makes the heart glad; and you don’t look like a contented man.  Everything in life has not gone according to your wishes, but each has his own cross to bear; and as for you, your name is Adam, and your trials also come from Eve!”

At these words the smith moved his hand from his beard, and began to push the round leather cap to and fro on his bald head.  A harsh answer was already on his lips, when he saw Ulrich, who had paused on the threshold in bewilderment.  The boy had never beheld any guest at his father’s table except the doctor, but hastily collecting his thoughts he kissed the monk’s hand.  The priest took the handsome lad by the chin, bent his head back, looked Adam also in the face, and exclaimed: 

“His mouth, nose and eyes he has inherited from your wife, but the shape of the brow and head is exactly like yours.”

A faint flush suffused Adam’s cheeks, and turning quickly to the boy as if he had heard enough, he cried: 

“You are late.  Where have you been so long?”

“In the forest with Ruth.  We were gathering faggots for Dr. Costa.”

“Until now?”

“Rahel had baked some dumplings, so the doctor told me to stay.”

“Then go to bed now.  But first take some food to the groom in the stable, and put fresh linen on my bed.  Be in the workshop early to-morrow morning, there is a horse to be shod.”

The boy looked up thoughtfully and replied:  “Yes, but the doctor has changed the hours; to-morrow the lesson will begin just after sunrise, father.”

“Very well, we’ll do without you.  Good-night then.”

The monk followed this conversation with interest and increasing disapproval, his face assuming a totally different expression, for the muscles between his nose and mouth drew farther back, forming with the underlip an angle turning inward.  Thus he gazed with mute reproach at the smith for some time, then pushed the goblet far away, exclaiming with sincere indignation: 

“What doings are these, friend Adam?  I’ll let the Jew’s wine pass, and the dumplings too for aught I care, though it doesn’t make a Christian child more pleasing in the sight of God, to eat from the same dish with those on whom the Saviour’s innocent blood rests.  But that you, a believing Christian, should permit an accursed Jew to lead a foolish lad. . . .”

“Let that pass,” said the smith, interrupting the excited monk; but the latter would not be restrained, and only continued still more loudly and firmly:  “I won’t be stopped.  Was such a thing ever heard of?  A baptized Christian, who sends his own son to be taught by the infidel soul-destroyer!”

“Hear me, Father!”

“No indeed.  It’s for you to hear—­you!  What was I saying?  For you, you who seek for your poor child a soul-destroying infidel as teacher.  Do you know what that is?  A sin against the Holy Ghost—­the worst of all crimes.  Such an abomination!  You will have a heavy penance imposed upon you in the confessional.”