"Greek?"--
"And why should I not sing Greek," pertly rejoined Praxedis.
"By the lyre of Homer," exclaimed Ekkehard, full of surprise, "where in the name of wonder did you learn that; the highest aim of our scholars?"
"At home," quietly replied Praxedis.
Ekkehard cast another look, full of shy respect and admiration at her. While reading Aristotle and Plato he had hardly remembered, that any living persons still spoke the Greek tongue. The idea now dawned upon him, that something was here embodied before him, that in spite of all his spiritual and wordly wisdom, was beyond his reach and understanding.
"I thought I had come as a teacher to the Hohentwiel," said he almost humbly, "and I find my master here. Would you not now and then deign to bestow a grain of your mother-tongue on me?"
"On condition that you will not drive away the doves," replied Praxedis. "You can easily have a grating put up before the niche, so that they do not fly about your head."
"For the sake of pure Greek"--Ekkehard was beginning to say, when the door opened, and the sharp voice of Dame Hadwig was heard.
"What are you talking here about doves and pure Greek? Does it take so much time to look at four walls?--Well, Master Ekkehard, does the den suit your taste?"
He bowed in the affirmative.