At the university he had been given the nickname of Wilhelmina, on account of a certain gentleness and delicacy of manner, and because he neither drank nor smoked.

Such jokes, not ill-natured, were directed against his outward appearance, but had a shade of meaning as regards his character.
As Wilhelm walked into the courtyard of the Schloss hotel he stopped a moment to regain his breath.

Before him was the stately new house, whose white-painted walls and many windows had looked down on the high-road; to the left stood the round tower inclosed within a ruined wall, shading an airy lattice-work building, in which on a raised wooden floor stood a table and some benches.

Several people, evidently guests at the hotel, sat there drinking wine and beer, and eying the newcomer curiously.

The burly landlord, in village dress, emerged from the open door of the cellar in the tower, and wished him "good-day." He had a thick beard and a sunburned face, with good-natured blue eyes.
With a searching glance at the young man's cap and knapsack, he waited for Wilhelm to speak.
"Can I have a room looking on to the valley ?" asked the latter.
"Not at this moment," the landlord answered, clearing his throat loudly; "there is hardly a room free here, and that only in the top story.