"Tell him also, what is the meaning of neque enim."
"There is no gratitude in this world; and of an Emperor's friends, even the best is a traitor."
"Even the best is a traitor," murmured the old man, lost in thought. His eye now fell on the chessboard. "Ah yes," muttered he faintly, "checkmated, mated by bishops and knights" ... he clenched his fist, and made a movement as if to rise; then falling back with a deep sigh, he raised his shrivelled hand to his forehead, resting his heavy head on it.
"The headache" ... said he, "the cursed headache!"
"Mummolin!" cried Rauching.
With bounding steps the black dog came in; and on seeing the old man with bent-down head, he whiningly crept up to him, and licked his forehead. "'Tis well," said the old man, after a while, lifting himself up again.
"Are you ill?" kindly asked Ekkehard.
"Ill?" rejoined he,--"may be that it is a sort of illness! I have been visited by it such a long time, that it seems quite like an old acquaintance. Have you ever had the headache? I advise you, never to go out to battle, when you are attacked by a headache; and by no means to conclude a peace. It may cost you a realm, that headache ..."
"Could not some physician" ... began Ekkehard.
"The wisdom of physicians, has in this case, long come to an end. They have done their best for me," pointing to his forehead, where two old scars crossed each other.