“Baron Floyon belongs to my mother’s family. He marched against you, and as I approved his cause....”
“And pillage pleases you, you felt disposed to break a lance.”
“Quite right.”
“And you have done your cause no harm. Where do you live?”
“Surely you know: in Germany.”
“Germany is a very large country.”
“In the Black Forest in Swabia.”
“And your name?”
The prisoner made no reply; but Ulrich fixed his eyes upon the coat of arms on the knight’s armor, looked at him more steadily, and a strange smile hovered around his lips as he approached him, saying in an altered tone: “You think the Navarrete will demand from Count von Frohlinger a ransom as large as his fields and forests?”
“You know me?”