A brief silence followed, then Knapwurst resumed:
"And in those distant times, when brave knights went forth to war, disputing and fighting over a bit of forest, title, or a lesser matter yet, with what contempt did they look upon this wretched little scribe, this man of letters and mystery, clad in ratteen, his only weapon an ink bottle dangling at his belt, and the handle of his pen for a plume. How often they jeered him, crying, 'That fellow is an atom, a flea; he is good for nothing; he cannot even collect our taxes or manage our estates, while we fine chaps go out on our mounts with lance in hand, ready for anything that comes in our way!' Thus they talked when they saw the poor devil dragging along behind them, shivering in winter, sweating in summer, and growing feeble in his old age. Ah, well! this atom, this flea, has caused them to survive long after their castles have turned to dust and their arms have rusted away, and for my part I love these old parchments; I respect and revere them. Like ivy, they clothe the ruins and prevent the old walls from crumbling away and becoming entirely effaced."
Having given such expression to his thoughts, Knapwurst seemed grave, and reflecting upon these things his eyes filled with the tears of affectionate remembrance. The dwarf loved those who had tolerated and protected his ancestors. After all, he spoke the truth; there was profound good sense in his words. His warmth surprised me.
"Have you learned Latin, Knapwurst?" I asked him.
"Yes, monsieur," he replied, "I taught myself Latin and Greek. Old grammars were enough,—some of the Count's thrown into the ash-barrel; they fell into my hands and I devoured them. Some time after, the Lord of Nideck having chanced to hear me make some Latin quotation was surprised.
"'Who taught you Latin, Knapwurst?' he asked.
"'I taught myself, monseigneur.'
"He asked me some questions, which I answered pretty well.
"'By Jove!' he cried, 'Knapwurst knows more than I do! He shall keep my archives.'
"And he gave me the key to the archive chamber. During the thirty years since then, I have read every page. Sometimes the Count, seeing me on my ladder, stops a minute and says to me: