By him Sir Eberhard had been received with the warmest hospitality,
and treated as befitted his original station, but Battista disclaimed
the merit of having ransomed him. He had but acted, he said, as the
agent of an Austrian gentleman, from whom he had received orders to
inquire after the Swabian baron who had been his fellow-captive, and,
if he were still living, to pay his ransom, and bring him home.
"The name--the name!" eagerly asked Ebbo and his mother at once.
"The name? Gian was wont to make bad work of our honest German
names, but I tried to learn this--being so beholden to him. I even
caused it to be spelt over to me, but my letters long ago went from
me. It seems to me that the man is a knight-errant, like those of
thy ballads, Stine--one Ritter Theur--Theur--"
"Theurdank!" cried Ebbo.
"Ay, Theurdank. What, you know him? There is nothing you and your
mother don't know, I believe."
"Know him! Father, he is our greatest and noblest! He has been kind
to me beyond description. He is the Kaisar! Now I see why he had
that strange arch look which so vexed me when he forbade me on my
allegiance to set forth till my lameness should be gone! Long ago
had he asked me all about Gian Battista.
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