“Do you count upon any patron?”
“I know nobody in Spain.”
“What then do you rely upon?”
“My conscience, my good-will, my youth, and my confidence in God.”
This conversation rendered the Spaniard thoughtful. He gazed on that face, in which candor and docility were impressed; those blue eyes, pure as those of a girl; those smiles, sad, but at the same time confident, earnestly interested him, and moved his pity.
“Will you descend with me,” he said, after a brief pause, “and accept some hot punch to keep out the cold? In the interim let us converse.”
The German inclined his head in token of his gratitude, and following the Spaniard, they descended to the dining-room.
At the head of the table were seated the governor, with his two officers; on one side were two Frenchmen. The Spaniard and the German seated themselves at the foot of the table.
“But how,” exclaimed the first, “have you ever conceived the idea of going to this distracted country?”
The German hesitated, and then related to him faithfully his life: “I am the sixth son of a professor in a small city of Saxonia, and who had spent much in the education of his sons. Finding ourselves without occupation or employment, like so many young paupers you find in Germany, after having devoted their youth to excellent and profound studies, and who had studied their art under the best masters, our maintenance was a burden on our family; for which reason, without feeling discouraged, with all my German calmness, I took the resolution to depart for Spain, where the disgraceful and sanguinary wars of the North opened up hopes that my services there might be useful.