In The Blue Pike | Page 8

wish any one evil, but if Gotz
Berlichinger, who had recently attacked a party of Leipsic merchants at
Forchheim, or Hans von Geisslingen had fallen upon them and subdued
their arrogance, it would not have spoiled Dietel's appetite.
At last they moved forward. The others might treat them as they chose;
he, at least, would neither say anything to them nor bow before them as
the ears did before Joseph in Holy Writ. Nevertheless, he looked out of
the corner of his eye at them as he took from the basket of the round-
checked kitchen maid, who had now found her way to him, one fresh
brown roll after another, and placed them beside plate after plate. How
well risen and how crusty they were! They fairly cracked under the
pressure of the thumb, yet wheat rolls had been baked specially for the
Nuremberg party. Was God's good gift too poor for the Honourables
with the gold chains?
Now, even fragile little Dr. Eberbach, and the students and Bacchantes
who had stood around him like disciples, intently listening to his words,
bowed respectfully. The ungodly, insolent fellows who surrounded the
Dominican Jacobus, the vender of indulgences, had turned from him,
while he exhorted them, as if he were an importunate beggar. What did
the merchants, artisans, and musicians know about the godless Greek
and Latin writings which brought the names of Pirckheimer and
Peutinger before the people, yet how reverently many of these folk now
bowed before them. Only the soldiers with swords at their sides held
their heads erect. They proved that they were right in calling
themselves "pious lansquenets." The broad-shouldered knight, with the
plumed hat and suit of mail, who walked beside them, was Sir Hans
von Obernitz, the Schultheiss of Nuremberg. He was said to be a
descendant of the ancient Brandenstein race, and yet--was the world
topsy-turvy?--he, too, was listening to every word uttered by Wilibald
Pirckheimer and Dr. Peutinger as if it were a revelation. The
gray-haired leech and antiquary, Hartmann Schedel, whom Herr

Wilibald,--spite of the gout which sometimes forced a slight grimace to
distort his smooth-shaven, clever, almost over-plump face,--led by the
arm like a careful son, resembled, with his long, silver locks, a
patriarch or an apostle.
The young envoy of the Council, Herr Lienhard Groland, lingered
behind the others and seemed to be taking a survey of the room.
What bright, keen eyes he had; how delicately cut was the oval face
with the strong, very slightly hooked nose; how thick were the waving
brown locks that fell upon the slender neck; how well the pointed beard
suited his chin; with what austere majesty his head rose above the
broad, plaited, snow-white ruff, which he must have just donned!
Now his eyes rested upon the vagrants, and Dietel perceived something
which threw him completely off his balance; for the first time he
changed the position of his napkin, jerking it from its place under his
left arm to tuck it beneath the right one. He had known Kuni a long
time. In her prosperous days, when she was the ornament of Loni's
band and had attracted men as a ripe pear draws wasps, she had often
been at the tavern, and both he and the landlord of The Pike had greeted
her cordially, for whoever sought her favour was obliged to order the
best and dearest of everything, not only for her and himself, but for a
whole tableful of hungry guests. When she had met him just now he
would never have recognised her had she not been in Gundel's
company. True, the sight of her in this plight was not unexpected, yet it
pierced him to the heart, for Kuni had been a remarkable girl, and yet
was now in far greater penury than many of much less worth whom he
had watched stumbling along the downward path before her. When he
saw Lienhard Groland's glance rest upon her, he noticed also how
strangely her emaciated face changed colour. Though it had just been
as white as the napkin under his arm, it now flushed as red as the
balsam blossoms in the window, and then paled again. She had
formerly gazed around her boldly enough, but now she lowered her
eyes to the floor as modestly as any demure maiden on her way to
church.
And what did this mean?

The honourable member of the Nuremberg Council must be well
acquainted with the girl, for his eyes had scarcely met hers ere a strange
smile flitted over his grave, manly face.
Now--was it in jest or earnest?--he even shook his finger at her. He
stopped in front of her a moment, too, and Dietel heard him exclaim:
"So here you are! On the highway again, in spite of