CHAPTER XXIX.

The next morning while Ulrich was packing his luggage, assisted by his servant, the sound of drums and fifes, bursts of military music and loud cheers were heard in the street, and going to the window, he saw the whole body of mutineers drawn up in the best order.

The companies stood in close ranks before his house, impetuous shouts and bursts of music made the windows rattle, and now the officers pressed into his room, holding out their swords, vowing fealty unto death, and entreating him to remain their commander.

He now perceived, that power cannot be thrown aside like a worthless thing.  His tortured heart was stirred with deep emotion, and the drooping wings of ambition unfolded with fresh energy.  He reproached, raged, but yielded; and when Ortis on his knees, offered him the commander’s baton, he accepted it.

Ulrich was again Eletto, but this need not prevent his seeing his father and Ruth once more, so he declared that he would retain his office, but should be obliged to ride to Antwerp that day, secretly inform the officers of the conspiracy against the city, and the necessity of negotiating with the commandant, that their share of the rich prize might not be lost.

What many had suspected and hoped was now to become reality.  Their Eletto was no idle man!  When Navarrete appeared at noon in front of the troops with his own work, the standard, in his hand, he was received with shouts of joy, and no one murmured, though many recognized in the Madonna’s countenance the features of the murdered sibyl.

Two days later Ulrich, full of eager expectation, rode into Antwerp, carrying in his portmanteau the mementos he had taken from his mother’s chest, while in imagination he beheld his father’s face, the smithy at Richtberg, the green forest, the mountains of his home, the Costas’ house, and his little playfellow.  Would he really be permitted to lean on his father’s broad breast once more?

And Ruth, Ruth!  Did she still care for him, had Philipp described her correctly?

He went to the count without delay, and found him at home.  Philipp received him cordially, yet with evident timidity and embarrassment.  Ulrich too was grave, for he had to inform his companion of his mother’s death.

“So that is settled,” said the count.  “Your father is a gnarled old tree, a real obstinate Swabian.  It’s not his way to forgive and forget.”

“And did he know that my mother was so near to him, that she was in Aalst.”

“All, all!”

“He will forgive the dead.  Surely, surely he will, if I beseech him, when we are united, if I tell him....”

“Poor fellow!  You think all this is so easy.—­It is long since I have had so hard a task, yet I must speak plainly.  He will have nothing to do with you, either.”

“Nothing to do with me?” cried Ulrich.