“Perhaps so, Count Lips.”
“By Heavens!”
“Ah, ha, you went from the monastery to the field.”
“From the monastery? How do you know that, sir?”
“We are old acquaintances, Count Lips. Look me in the eyes.”
The other gazed keenly at the Eletto, shook his head, and said: “You have not seemed a total stranger to me from the first; but I never was in Spain.”
“But I have been in Swabia, and at that time you did me a kindness. Would your ransom be large enough to cover the cost of a broken church window?”
The count opened his eyes in amazement and a bright smile flashed over his face as, clapping his hands, he exclaimed with sincere delight:
“You, you—you are Ulrich! I’ll be damned, if I’m mistaken! But who the devil would discover a child of the Black Forest in the Spanish Eletto?”
“That I am one, must remain a secret between us for the present,” exclaimed Ulrich, extending his hand to the count. “Keep silence, and you will be free—the window will cover the ransom!”