He saluted the young man as he approached the table by a slight inclination of the head, whilst a scarcely visible smile played about his mouth. He pointed to a goblet on the table and a stool by his side. Bertha understanding the hint, filled it with wine, and presented it to her lover, with that grace which marked every thing she did. Albert seated himself beside the old man, and drank.
The latter drew his chair near to him, and said in a low tone of voice, "I fear our affairs are in a bad way!"
"Have you had any intelligence?" asked Albert, in the same low tone.
"A peasant told me this morning, that Tübingen had treated with the League last evening."
"Good heavens!" said Albert, involuntarily.
"Keep quiet, and do not wake him! he will learn it soon enough," replied the old man, pointing to the other side of the room.
The young man looked that way. At one of the side windows, looking towards the deep ravine, sat the exile asleep; his arm, resting on the ledge of the window, supported his careworn brow. His grey cloak had partly fallen off his shoulder, and discovered a worn-out leather jerkin, in which his powerful frame was encased. His curly hair hung down over his temples in disorder, and a few tufts of his smooth beard were visible from under his hand. The large dog lay at his feet, his head resting on his master's foot, looking up at him with faithful eyes and watching every motion of his features.
"He sleeps," said the old man, and repressed a starting tear. "He breathes light; oh! that his dreams may be comforting. The reality of life to him is melancholy indeed! Who can help wishing he may remain unconscious of it awhile?"
"His is a hard fate!" replied Albert, casting his eye at the sleeping man. "Driven from house and home--an outcast--a price offered to any villain who chooses to level his gun at him--under the earth by day, and by night wandering about like a thief! Truly, it is hard; and all this because he is faithful to his lord!"
"That man has suffered much in his lifetime," said Lichtenstein, with a serious look. "I have known him from the days of his childhood, and I can vouch for his having always wished to do what is right and just. The means indeed he applied to attain his object were at times not fitted to further his purpose; on other occasions his intentions were misunderstood, and he too often allowed himself to be carried away by the violence of passion--but where lives the man of which this might not be said? Truly, he has wofully repented himself." He stopt short, fearing he had said more than he ought before Albert, who asked in vain to hear something further of his character. The old man sank into silence and deep thought.