This morning Pater Benedictus was a totally different person from the man, who had sat over the wine the night before.

Coldly and formally he evaded the smith's questions, until the latter had sent his son away.
Ulrich, without making any objection, had helped his father shoe the sorrel horse, and in a few minutes, by means of a little stroking over the eyes and nose, slight caresses, and soothing words, rendered the refractory stallion as docile as a lamb.

No horse had ever resisted the lad, from the time he was a little child, the smith said, though for what reason he did not know.

These words pleased the monk, for he was only too familiar with two fillies, that were perfect fiends for refractoriness, and the fair-haired boy could show his gratitude for the schooling he received, by making himself useful in the stable.
Ulrich must go to the monastery, so Benedictus curtly declared with the utmost positiveness, after the smith had finished his work.

At midsummer a place would be vacant in the school, and this should be reserved for the boy.