Every peasant she met greeted her with praises of their young lord,
and, when she mounted the hall-steps, she found the floor strewn with
bales of goods.
"Mother," cried Ebbo, flying up to her, "have you heard? I have a
horse! a spirited bay, a knightly charger, and Friedel is to ride him
by turns with me. Where is Friedel? And, mother, Heinz said I
struck as good a stroke as any of them, and I have a sword for
Friedel now. Why does he not come? And, motherling, this is for
you, a gown of velvet, a real black velvet, that will make you fairer
than our Lady at the Convent. Come to the window and see it, mother
dear."
The boy was so joyously excited that she could hardly withstand his
delight, but she did not move.
"Don't you like the velvet?" he continued. "We always said that, the
first prize we won, the motherling should wear velvet. Do but look
at it."
"Woe is me, my Ebbo!" she sighed, bending to kiss his brow.
He understood her at once, coloured, and spoke hastily and in
defiance. "It was in the river, mother, the horses fell; it is our
right.
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