Ekkehard wanted to take her hand. Sometimes he felt as if Praxedis were his good angel; but at that moment, Master Spazzo on horseback, entered the courtyard at a slow and lingering pace. His head was bent towards the pommel, and a leaden smile rested on his tired features. He was half asleep.
"Your face has undergone a great change since yesterday," called out Praxedis to him. "Why do the sparks not fly out any more from under Falada's hoofs?"
With a vacant stare, he looked down at her. Everything was dancing before his eyes.
"Have you brought home a considerable smart-money, Sir chamberlain?" asked Praxedis.
"Smart-money? for whom?" stolidly said Master Spazzo.
"For poor Cappan! Why, I verily believe that you have eaten a handful of poppy-seed, not to know any more, for what purpose you rode out." ...
"Poppy-seed?" said Master Spazzo in the same drowsy tone. "Poppy-seed? No. But wine of Meersburg, red wine of Meersburg, unmeasured quantities of red Meersburg, yes!"
Heavily he dismounted, and then retired into the privacy of his apartments. The report about the result of his mission, was not given. Praxedis cast an astonished look at the departing chamberlain, as she did not wholly understand the reason of Master Spazzo's peculiar frame of mind.
"Have you never heard, that to a grown-up man, neither springs, woods, nor singing of birds are half so refreshing as old wine?" said Ekkehard, smilingly. "But even as the Jewish prophet boy said to King Darius, when his generals and officers were quarrelling around his throne, about which of them was the strongest: 'The wine is the strongest of all! for it conquers the men who drink it, and leads their minds astray.'"
Praxedis had approached the wall, and was looking downward.