"Did that happen to you on the road?"
"Oh, no; that happened at home," answered Jacob, tearfully; and he related the story of the cow and the farmer, the details of which were too deeply impressed upon his memory to be soon forgotten.
Louise understood the jargon of the boy but imperfectly, still her sympathetic nature comprehended that the boy had been seriously hurt, and she asked her husband to repeat the story of his injuries.
"Poor fellow," she exclaimed, wiping away a tear. "How cruelly he has been treated!"
"I suppose it served him right," answered the Count, rudely. "Who knows what he had been guilty of. One never knows whether a Jew is lying or telling the truth."
In spite of his doubts upon the subject, Drentell examined the boy's arm. It was evident that the bone had been broken, and that the fracture had been imperfectly set. After a short inspection, he hazarded an opinion that the boy would have a stiff arm all his life.
"It was almost well," sobbed Jacob, "but the soldiers pulled me about so that it is now much worse."
"Poor boy," sighed the Countess, "how dreadful it must be! Can we do nothing for him?"
"In the name of St. Nicholas, Louise, cease this sentimental whimpering," retorted her husband, losing patience.
"But think of a stiff arm through life, and his ear almost torn off! It is terrible to carry such mutilations to the grave."