"Pardon me; in the field I have learnt neither simulation nor dissimulation, and I deem them besides contrary to my honour as a knight. He who, on account of the Utraquist, overlooks the man in me, is only an object of my pity, and I set little value on his opinion."
A tumult in the street interrupted this conversation.
"What is the matter below?" said Schindel to the servant, who just then brought in a fresh flask of wine.
"A violent fray," he replied, "in the house of the widow Fox, in the market-place. Francis Friend quarrelled with Rasselwitz about a bay horse, and from words they drew their swords upon each other. The police have already interfered to put an end to the tumult."
"Gracious heavens!" cried Schindel, clasping his hands, "will this disorder never have an end?"
"The crime," returned Tausdorf, "was settled in this room by the violent young nobles. I immediately suspected the evil that would come of it, and warned them, but in vain."
"God reward you for the good intent," said Schindel, and he proffered his hand to him with unfeigned cordiality: "There is, indeed, a necessity for rational people interfering in these mad affairs, which are now unceasing between the nobles and the citizens; one fray always creates a multitude, and in the end both parties will be ruined by them."
As he spoke the door was violently thrown open, and in rushed the breathless Netz, sword in hand.
"For heaven's sake, what has happened?" cried Althea, anxiously.
"Under favour, sister," panted Netz, sheathing his sword: "Allow your servant to fetch my horse directly. He will find it in the stable at Barthel Wallach's. I must be off this hour from Schweidnitz, or I am lost."