The next morning two horsemen, dressed in neat livery, were waiting before the door of a handsome House in Nobelstrasse, near the market-place.

A third was leading two sturdy roan steeds up and down, and a stable-boy held by the bridle a gaily-bedizened, long maned pony.
This was intended for the young negro lad, who stood in the door-way of the house and kept off the street-boys, who ventured to approach, by rolling his eyes and gnashing his white teeth at them.
"Where can they be ?" said one of the mounted men: "The rain won't keep off long to-day." "Certainly not," replied the other.

"The sky is as grey as my old felt-hat, and, by the time we reach the forest, it will be pouring." "It's misting already." "Such cold, damp weather is particularly disagreeable to me." "It was pleasant yesterday." "Button the flaps tighter over the pistol-holsters! The portmanteau behind the young master's saddle isn't exactly even.

There! Did the cook fill the flask for you ?" "With brown Spanish wine.

There it is." "Then let it pour.