Dame Hadwig was not greatly edified by this lecture. She let her eyes wander about in the hall in search of something to divert her thoughts. Had the chamberlain, perhaps also disapproved of the choice of the chapter, or had the wine got into his head?--for suddenly he dashed at the book and closing it vehemently, so that the wooden covers clapped audibly, he held up his beaker, saying: "To the health of St. Benedict." Ekkehard turned a reproachful look on him, but the younger members of the brotherhood, regarding the toast as serious, had already echoed it noisely. Here and there a hymn in praise of the holy man was begun; this time to the tune of a merry drinking song, and loud joyous voices rang through the hall. Whilst Abbot Cralo looked about with a somewhat dubious expression, and Master Spazzo was still busily drinking to the health of the saint with the younger clergy, Dame Hadwig inclined her head towards Ekkehard and said in a half whisper: "Would you be willing to teach me Latin, young admirer of the classics, if I felt inclined to learn it?" Then Ekkehard heard an inner voice, whispering like an echo of what he had read: "throw thyself into the thorns and nettles, and say no!"--but heedless of the warning voice he replied: "Command and I obey." The Duchess gazed once more on the young monk with a furtive, searching look; then turned to the Abbot and talked of indifferent things. The cloister-inmates did not seem inclined as yet to let this day's unusual liberty end here. In the Abbot's eyes there was a peculiarly soft and lenient expression, and the cellarer also never said "nay," when the brothers descended with their emptied wine-jugs into the vaults below. At the fourth table the old Tutilo began to get jolly, and was telling his inevitable story of the robbers. Louder and louder his powerful voice rang through the hall: "One of them turned to fly,--I after him with my oaken stick,--he throws away spear and shield to the ground,--I quickly seize him by the throat, force the spear into his hand and cry, 'thou knave of a robber, for what art thou encumbering the world? Thou shalt fight with me!'" ... But they had all heard it too often already how he had then in honest fight split open the scull of his antagonist,--so they eagerly requested him, to sing some favourite song, and on his giving an assenting nod, some of them hurried out, presently to return with their instruments. One of them brought a lute, another a violin with one string only, a third a sort of dulcimer with metal pegs, which were played on with a tuning key, and a fourth a small ten-stringed harp. This last curious-looking instrument was called a psalter, and its three-cornered shape was held to be a symbol of the Trinity.