But--for Heaven's sake!--you will swear--fool, that I am--you will swear not to speak of it!" "Of course I will!" Kochel exclaimed with a loud laugh.

"My hand upon it Navarrete.

I'll keep silence, but you! Don't gossip about that! Not on any account! The jesting blow might do the master harm.

Excuse me for to-day; there is a great deal of writing to be done for the almoner." Ulrich went directly back to the studio.

The conviction that he had committed a folly, nay, a crime, had taken possession of him directly after the last word escaped his lips, and now tortured him more and more.