The Jesuit looked over his man. "You are a Bavarian, Sir?"
"No, I am from Tyrol, and was a Papist and moreover a zealous one."
"May one ask what damped that zeal?" said Paul with curiosity.
"Why not?" said Sylvan. "The story is not pretty, but it is interesting for people like you, and cannot hurt me to relate, for it took place a long time ago. I come from Trieste, and was educated by Abbot Altherr in Innsbruck, and after being consecrated was sent as Chaplain in the neigbourhood of Salzburg, to aid an aged Priest who found his duties too much for him. Thus I came out of the Seminary into the world, with my head full of plans for the improvement and reformation of men. I got on very well with my fat old Colleague. He lived with his housekeeper, and every afternoon went to Salzburg to drink the good Strohwein at St. Peter's. That just suited me, as I then had the management of the parish to myself. I carried my wisdom up and down the mountains, preached the Gospel to the peasants till I perceived that they made fun of me, and that their favorite Priest was he who kept most out of their way. Feeling sore I concluded that if the peasants would not hear me I would sit down in the library of the parsonage and set the world on fire through some learned work. Whether I should write on the archangels or the church-tithes would entirely depend on the books I might find there to hand. But heaven only knows what the patristic writings were that I found there. Amadis of Gaul, Erasmus and Hutten, the works of Boccaccio and Sannazar, the Epigrams of Poggio, and the novels of Rabelais. It became suddenly clear to me why this good Priest required so much Strohwein to stupefy him. The love stories which I read, did me much mischief, but I soon cast them away from me; my zeal was awakened and I determined to do away with the scandal. One afternoon that the Priest had gone out, and that the housekeeper was visiting her nephews and nieces, I packed up the entire library of the Antichrist and carried them into the court. I had soon piled up the filthy works and rejoiced to see how well they burnt up. But in my ardour I had not remembered that at this very season the Föhn blew strongly. How could a young Saint only twenty years of age think of such a trifle, when the cause of God was in question. The burning paper went flying about the court and before I knew the shingles of the pig-sty were on fire. I run for water, pile dung on the burning sty, and whilst I am sweating and puffing, I suddenly notice that the flying bits of paper have set the shingle-roof of the parsonage on fire. I at once run to the Church and toll the alarm bell. People hasten from all sides. I would answer no question, see nothing, hear nothing. But whilst tolling I see how the Church itself is filling with smoke; it is evident that the roof is on fire, I toll all the more till at last the bell itself lies at my feet. It was time for me to step outside. Holy Florianus, when I look around me I see the whole place in flames! The wind carried the burning straw from roof to roof. I did not wait to receive from the peasants the reward of my pious efforts, but cut a stick and left the place as hard as my legs could carry me. Of an evening, I curled myself up in a cornfield and went fast asleep. Thus I at last reached Innsbruck where lived my Abbot. I confessed all to him. 'Thou wert zealous but foolishly,' said he, 'thy stay in Tyrol is no longer possible.' Thus I was obliged to come down from my mountains towards the empire, and could choose any of the sixteen corners from which the wind blows over the plain of Munich. It now became necessary to repress myself and to cringe, and I soon entirely lost the art of rooting the sins of others out by fire. When finally I reached France, my zeal had vanished. Bishop Zobel of Würzburg thought however that I was a thorough Tyrolean and knew how to behave myself, he therefore appointed me Canon and Court Preacher. If there was no Strohwein there was at least Steinwein. I found my Theresa and right or wrong as it might please God we lived together. But finally I thought the whole thing bad and asked in the Palatinate whether I could find employment, as Theresa was always dinning in my ears that I should marry her, and I felt I should like to have my children about me. Thus it was I came to Ladenburg. Instead of heavy Steinwein I now drink Lützelsachsener. The wine is not tasty, but only a small disrelish has to be overcome, and it is healthier. In short Inspector Sylvan is a happier man than the Canon of Würzburg ever was. That is my story, young man, and I think you will find something to copy therein."
"I thank you, Sir," said Paul smiling, "you may be certain that I shall not set your Heidelberg on fire. It catches fire without my aid once in every four weeks."
"Room for Chancellor Probus and the Church Counsellor," cried out Neuser eagerly, as Erast came in accompanied by a stoutly built portly man, who leaning on his sword sat down at the clerical table. The rows became closer and closer, and the young daughter of the court fool, a fresh country lass from the Palatinate, gayly attended to their wants. She appeared however not to notice Master Laurenzano. He sat there without being waited on till the host himself brought him a measure of wine.
"Who is the rough looking man with the huge forehead?" asked the artist. "I mean the individual who so quickly swallows down one beaker after another, and whose every remark calls out a shout of applause from those in his immediate neighbourhood."
"That is Xylander, our celebrated philologist."
"Hem," murmured Felix, "our great humanists look a little different. And the haggard looking man, who behaves in so condescending a manner, as if he feared to tread unawares upon us poor worms with his leonine paws?"
"Be quiet," whispered Paul, "that is the renowned Pithopöus, the great Aristotelean of Deventer."