“Well then, keep to yourself where and how we first met each other. Don’t interrupt me. I’ll tell you later in my tent, where you must take up your quarters, how I gained my name, and what I have experienced in life. Don’t show your surprise, and keep calm. I, Ulrich, the boy from the Black Forest, am the man you seek, I am Navarrete.”
“You?” asked the lansquenet, opening his eyes in amazement. “Nonsense! You’re paying me off for the yarns I told you just now.”
No, Hans Eitelfritz, no! I am not jesting, I mean it. I am Navarrete! Nay more! If you keep your mouth shut, and the devil doesn’t put his finger into the pie, I think, spite of all the Zorrillos, I shall be Eletto to-morrow.
“You know the Spanish temper! The German Ulrich will be a very different person to them from the Castilian Navarrete. It is in your power to spoil my chance.”
The other interrupted him by a peal of loud, joyous laughter, then shouted to the dog: “Up, Lelaps! My respects to Caballero Navarrete.”
The Spaniards frowned, for they thought the German was drunk, but Hans Eitelfritz needed more liquor than that to upset his sobriety.
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. Your uncle, the noble Conde in what’s its name, that place in Castile, you know, and the Condesa and Condesilla. Splendid people! Do you remember the coal-black horses with snow-white tails in your father’s stable, and the old servant Enrique. There wasn’t a longer nose than his in all Castile! Once, when I was in Burgos, I saw a queer, longish shadow coming round a street corner, and two minutes after, first a nose and then old Enrique appeared.”
“Yes, yes,” replied Ulrich, guessing the lansquenet’s purpose. “But it has grown late while we’ve been gossiping; let us go!”
The woman at the table had not heard the whispers exchanged between the two men; but she guessed the object of the lansquenet’s loud words. As the latter slowly rose, she laid the child in the basket, drew a long breath, pressed her fingers tightly upon her eyes for a short time, and then went directly up to her son.