"To begin with, thou shalt gather something else than Greek wisdom from my lips," said she jestingly, giving him another kiss. "But now be a good boy, and quickly say some more well-set verses."
She pushed back his curls from his blushing face; but the cloister-pupil's metrical powers were not discomposed even by the kiss of a Duchess. Ekkehard had stepped up to the window, where he looked out towards the Alps, whilst Burkhard without hesitation, recited the following lines:
"Non possum prorsus dignos componere versus,
Nam nimis expavi duce me libante suavi."
He had again produced two faultless hexametres.
The Duchess laughed out gaily. "Well, I verily believe that thou didst greet the light of this world with a Latin verse, at thy birth? That flows from thy lips as if Virgil had arisen from his grave. But why art thou frightened when I kiss thee?"
"Because you are so grand, and proud and beautiful," said the boy.
"Never mind," replied the Duchess. "He, who with the fresh kiss yet burning on his lips, can improvise such perfect verses, cannot be very much terrified."
Making him stand up before her, she asked him: "And why art thou so very eager to learn Greek?"
"Because they say, that if a man knows Greek, he can become so clever as to hear the grass grow," was the ready answer. "Ever since my fellow-pupil Notker with the large lip, has vaunted himself, that he were going to learn all Aristotle by heart, and then translate it into German, I have been uneasy in my mind."
Dame Hadwig again laughed merrily. "Let us begin then? Dost thou know the antiphon, 'Ye seas and rivers praise the Lord?'"