As soon as Adam was alone with Ruth she caught his hand, exclaiming beseechingly:
"Father, father, he is your own son! Love your enemies, the Saviour commanded; and you…."
"And I hate him," said the smith, curtly and resolutely. "Did he hurt you?"
"Your hate hurts me ten times as much! You judge without examining; yes, father, you do! When he assaulted me, he was in the right. He thought I had insulted his mother."
Adam shrugged his shoulders, and she continued "The poor woman is dead.
Ulrich brought you yonder ring; she never parted with it."
The armorer started, seized the golden hoop, looked for the date inside, and when he had found it, clasped the ring in his hands and pressed them silently to his temples. He stood in this attitude a short time, then let his arms fall, and said softly:
"The dead must be forgiven…."
"And the living, father? You have punished him terribly, and he is not a wicked man, no, indeed he is not! If he comes back again, father?"
"My apprentices shall show the Spanish mutineer the door," cried the old man in a harsh, stern tone; "to the burgher's repentant son my house will be always open."
Meantime the Eletto wandered from one street to another. He felt bewildered, disgraced.