What is your name ?" "Ulrich." "I know that; but your father's ?" "Adam." "And what else ?" Ulrich gazed silently at the ground, for the smith had borne no other name.
"Well then," said Moor, "we will call you Ulrich for the present; that will suffice.

But have you no relatives?
Is no one waiting for you at home ?" "We have led such a solitary life--no one." Moor looked fixedly into the boy's face, then nodded, and with a well-satisfied expression, laid his hand on Ulrich's curls, and said: "Look at me.

I am an artist, and if you have any love for my profession, I will teach you." "Oh!" cried the boy, clasping his hands in glad surprise.
"Well then," Moor continued, "you can't learn much on the way, but we can work hard in Madrid.

We are going now to King Philip of Spain." "Spain, Portugal!" murmured Ulrich with sparkling eyes; all he had heard in the doctor's house about these countries returned to his mind.
"Fortune, good fortune!" cried an exultant voice in his heart.

This was the "word," it must be, it was already exerting its spell, and the spell was to prove its inherent power in the near future.
That very day the party were to go to Count von Rappoltstein in the village of Rappolts, and this time Ulrich was not to plod along on foot, or he in a close baggage-wagon; no, he was to be allowed to ride a spirited horse.