Susanne Schindler--that was her name--was the daughter of a respectable notary's clerk, who was obliged to wander about the world a great deal, and perished in Hungary just as she reached womanhood.

Her mother had died when she was born, and an old woman had taken care of her out of friendship.

People called the lass 'beautiful Susel,' and she was wonderfully charming.

Pink and white, like the maiden in the fairy tale, and with glittering golden hair just like my Wawerl's.

The old woman with whom she lived--her aunt or some other relative--had long practised the healing of all sorts of infirmities, and when a young Spanish count, who had come here with the Emperor Charles to the Reichstag in the year '31, fell under his horse in leaping a ditch, his limbs were injured so that he could not use them.