Ulrich

“ The longer the unsuccessful efforts lasted, the more evident became the superior smile on Ulrich's lips, the faster his heart throbbed. His eyes searched the grass, and when he had discovered a flat, sharp-edged stone, he hurriedly stooped, pressed silently into the ranks of the players, and bending the upper part of his body far back, summoned all his strength, and hurled the stone in a beautiful curve high into the air. ”

“ The Herr Pfarrer had gone forward on his melancholy mission to prepare the people for their doom.
Ulrich stood alone, looking down upon Alt Waldnitz bathed in moonlight. And there came to him the words of the old pastor: "She will be dearer to you than yourself. For her you would lay down your life." And Ulrich knew that his love was the village of Alt Waldnitz, where dwelt his people, the old and wrinkled, the laughing "little ones," where dwelt the helpless dumb things with their deep pathetic eyes, where the bees hummed drowsily, and the thousand tiny creatures of the day. ”

“ With throbbing heart, unable to utter a single word, Ulrich opened the door of the studio, bowing low before the monarch, who without vouchsafing him a single glance, walked solemnly to the painting.
Coello drew aside the cloth that covered it, and the sarcastic chuckle Ulrich had so often heard instantly echoed from the king’s lips; then turning to Coello he angrily exclaimed, loud enough to be heard by the young artist:
“Scandalous! Insulting, offensive botchwork! A Bacchante in the garb of a Madonna! And the child! Look at those legs! When he grows up, he may become a dancing-master. ”

“ How hard, how unspeakably, terribly hard it was for this woman, with the youthful face and white locks, to remain quiet! How she longed to start up and call joyously to the child, the man, her lover's enemy, but her own, own Ulrich:
"Look at me, look at me! I am your mother. You are mine! Come, come to my heart! I will never leave you more!"
Ulrich now laughed heartily again, not suspecting what was passing in a mother's heart, close beside him; he had no eyes for her, and only listened to the jests of the German lansquenet, with whom he drained beaker after beaker. ”

“ Flashing a mischievous glance at Ulrich from his bright eyes, he whispered: "If necessary, I too can be silent. You man without a country! You soldier of fortune! A Swabian the commander of these stiffnecked braggarts. Now see how I'll help you."
"What do you mean to do?" asked Ulrich; but Hans Eitelfritz had already raised the huge goblet, banging it down again so violently that the table shook. Then he struck the top with his clenched fist, and when the Spaniards fixed their eyes on him, shouted in their language: "Yes, indeed, it was delightful in those days, Caballero Navarrete. ”

“ Two days later Ulrich, full of eager expectation, rode into Antwerp, carrying in his portmanteau the mementos he had taken from his mother’s chest, while in imagination he beheld his father’s face, the smithy at Richtberg, the green forest, the mountains of his home, the Costas’ house, and his little playfellow. Would he really be permitted to lean on his father’s broad breast once more? ”

“ Every living creature seemed to be holding its breath in anxious suspense, but Ulrich once more laughed joyously, then bracing his bare knee against a bundle of faggots, cried:
“Give me that stick, Ruth, that I may tie it up. How dry the stuff is, and how it snaps! A word! To sit over books all day long for one stupid word—that’s just nonsense!”
“But all words are not alike,” replied the girl.
“Piff is paff, and paff is puff!” laughed Ulrich. “When I snap the twigs, you always hear them say ‘knack, knack,’ and ‘knack’ is a word too. The juggler Caspar’s magpie, can say twenty.” ”

“ You love one; she is the only woman in the world for you."
"But you, yourself, Herr Pastor, you have twice been married," suggested the puzzled wheelwright.
"But one at a time, Ulrich—one at a time. That is a very different thing."
Why should it not come to him, alone among men? Surely it was a beautiful thing, this love; a thing worthy of a man, without which a man was but a useless devourer of food, cumbering the earth.
So Ulrich pondered, pausing from his work one drowsy summer's afternoon, listening to the low song of the waters. How well he knew the winding Muhlde's merry voice. ”

“ Ulrich!”
The men followed her, but scarcely had they crossed the threshold, when they heard her rap violently at the door of the school-room, and Ulrich asking: “What is it?”
“Open the door!”
Soon after, with pallid face and throbbing heart, he was standing before the others, asking: “What am I to do?”
“Save your master!” cried Sophonisba. “Are you a contemptible Wight, or does a true artist’s heart beat in your breast? Would you fear to go, perhaps to your death, for this imperilled man?” ”

“ It comforts us to atone for a wrong. Whether you save me, Ulrich, or I perish—no matter; you are and always will be, my dear, faithful friend."
Ulrich threw himself sobbing on the artist's breast, and when he learned what was required of him, fairly glowed with delight and eagerness for action; he thought no greater joy could befall him than to die for the Master.
As the bell of the palace-chapel was ringing for evening service, Sophonisba was obliged to leave her friend; for it was her duty to attend the nocturnus with the queen.
Don Fabrizio turned away, while she bade Moor farewell. ”

“ He drew her to his heart again, but she released herself from his embrace, saying: "To-morrow, Ulrich; Zorrillo...."
"Zorrillo, always Zorrillo," he repeated, his blood boiling angrily.
"You are mine and, if you love me, you will leave him."
"I cannot, Ulrich, it will not do. He is kind, you will yet be friends."
"We, we? On the day of judgment, nay, not even then! Are you more firmly bound to yon smooth fellow, than to my honest father? There stands something in the darkness, it is good steel, and if needful will cut the tie asunder." ”

“ Life was a hollow mockery, and he whistled contemptuously as he adopted the embittered attitude of the abandoned outcast towards the world he was leaving. Aye, to quit it was the only wisdom. For everything else was folly, even Ulrich's ... Hush! he must not think of Ulrich.
The blow would kill him, that was certain. Not the strongest could survive such a betrayal. All he could do to soften it would be to leave behind a few hasty lines, alluding to the old sin, but not to the renewal of the old love. ”

“ On the miniature racecourse which sloped towards the stream, Ulrich's lanky figure was to be seen, surrounded by a crowd of golden-brown thoroughbred colts, which were pressing against him to be caressed by his hand. Leo's heart smote him at the thought of the comedy of deception he had given his word to enact, and the victim of which was to be the man who was dearest to him in the world. ”

“ Leo breathed more freely. Ulrich evidently did not regret her, and this shadow no longer lay between them.
"To pass on to ourselves," said Ulrich, leaning back in his chair with a gesture denoting mental fatigue. His features lost their expression of strained severity, and as his mouth opened two lines of pain shot up into his sunken cheeks. ”

“ Ulrich raised his hands as if praying, but hastily let them fall again, for there was a great stir outside of the inn. The tramp of steeds, the loud voices of men, the sound of drums and fifes were audible, then there was rattling, marching and shouting in the court-yard.
“A room for the clerk of the muster-roll and paymaster!” cried a voice.
“Gently, gently, children!” said the deep tones of the provost, who was the leader, counsellor and friend of the Lansquenets. “A devout servant must not bluster at the holy Christmas-tide; he’s permitted to drink a glass, Heaven be praised. ”

“ The wonder was that Ulrich saw or suspected nothing of all this. Despite his being the practical philosopher par excellence, be always seemed to be more and more hopelessly out of touch with the practical side of life. ”

“ Ulrich turned round. Pure joy, succeeded the next moment by horror, lit up his emaciated features.
"You at Uhlenfelde?" he gasped.
"How do you do, little girl?" cried Leo, forcing himself into an assumption of his old genial manner. "Don't let your eyes quite start out of your head. You can set the dogs on me to chase me out of the yard if I am not welcome." ”

“ Ulrich needed no comrades, and his zechins were sacred to him; he was keeping them for Italy.
The others soon thought him an odd, arrogant fellow, with whom no friendly ties could be formed, and left him to his own resources. He wandered about the streets at night alone, serenaded fair ladies, and compelled many gentlemen, who offended him, to meet him in single combat.
No one, not even Sanchez Coello, was permitted to know of these nocturnal adventures; they were his chief pleasure, stirred his blood, and gave him the blissful consciousness of superior strength. ”

“ Ulrich went gladly to the land of the New Learning, reached Pavia, struggled on to Bologna, found that he liked law no better than theology, and began to write. It is needless to follow his erratic career. He succeeded frequently in getting patrons; but he was not the man to live comfortably in dependence; he always remembered that he was a Franconian noble; he had an irritable temper,—his wretched health furnishing a very adequate excuse.
It is probable that his sojourn in Italy did as much for him as for Luther, though in a different way. ”

“ Ulrich laughed. It was a laugh of great irony at his own expense that escaped the narrow chest, from which he breathed with such difficulty, and a less sharp ear than Leo's would not have detected in it an undertone of weariness or hesitation.
"Why this sudden seriousness?" he asked. "You know that so long as I sit on the Liberal bench, thresh my own straw, and can prove that man was first created a baron, my happiness is assured." ”

“ Moor gazed long and searchingly at Ulrich’s work. When he had examined it sufficiently, he held out his hand to his pupil, saying warmly:
“I always said so; you are an artist! From to-morrow we will work together again, daily, and you will win more glorious victories with the brush than with the sword.”
Ulrich’s cheeks glowed with happiness and pride.
Ruth had never before seen him look so, and as she gazed joyfully into his eyes, he held out his hands to her, exclaiming: “An artist, an artist again! ”

“ Hitherto Ulrich had not known whether to enjoy or dread the thought of going to the monastery-school. The preparations had been pleasant enough, and the prospect of sharing the same bench with the sons of noblemen and aristocratic citizens, flattered his unity; but when he saw his father depart, his heart melted and his eyes grew wet. The monk; noticing this, drew him towards him, patted his shoulder, and said: "Keep up your courage! You will see that it is far pleasanter with us, than down in the Richtberg." ”

“ With anxious heart he counted them, and to his great delight found that there was just enough money to carry him to his betrothed and back. The other, who had a quick eye, was not slow to read what was passing in Ulrich’s mind, and said: “Is there any message you wish delivered to Miss Hofer? Or perhaps you will accompany me? Do; and we may visit her curiosity-shop together. To-morrow will be time enough to begin work on the frescos.”
“Well, I own, sir,” replied Ulrich, “’twould give me great happiness to see my lady-love; and I’ll labor all the harder for making her a visit.” ”

“ The yellow leaves were fluttering about the school play-ground, the starlings were gathering in flocks on the church roof to take their departure, and Ulrich would fain have gone with them, no matter where. He could not feel at home in the monastery and among his companions. Always first in Richtberg, he was rarely so here, most seldom of all in school, for his father had forbidden the doctor to teach him Latin, so in that study he was last of all.
Often, when every one was asleep, the poor lad sat studying by the ever- burning lamp in the lobby, but in vain. ”

“ Ulrich, attired in the count’s clothes, looked exactly like him. The jester had been the first to perceive this strange circumstance. Every one, even Moor, agreed with him, and so it happened that Pellicanus henceforth called his young friend the Navarrete. The name pleased the boy. Everything here pleased him, and he was full of happiness; only often at night he could not help grieving because, while his father was dead, he enjoyed such an overflowing abundance of good things, and because he had lost his mother, Ruth, and all who had loved him. ”

“ Then he approached the stallion, stroked and patted his shining neck, and continued:
"I thank you, young man. You have saved my best horse. But for you I should have stabbed him. You are an artist?"
"At your service, Your Highness."
"Your art is beautiful, and you alone know how it suits you. But much honor, perhaps also wealth and fame, can be gained among my troopers. Will you enlist?"
"No, Your Highness," replied Ulrich, with a low bow. "If I were not an artist, I should like best to be a soldier; but I cannot give up my art." ”

“ The ambassador and his secretary, de Soto, thought Ulrich an unsocial dreamer; but nevertheless, after they reached Venice, the latter invited him to share his lodgings, for Don Juan had requested him to interest himself in the young artist.
What could be the matter with the handsome fellow? The secretary tried to question him, but Ulrich did not betray what troubled him, only alluding in general terms to a great anxiety that burdened his mind. ”