When Ekkehard had joined the monastery, the brother Marcellus had already left it, to assume the priest's office at Radolfszell. Some neatly written manuscripts, such as Cicero's book on duty, and a Latin Priscianius with Irish characters between the lines, still kept up the remembrance of him. His name too was held in great veneration in the inner cloister-school, where he had been one of the most distinguished teachers. Besides this, he had led a blameless life, but since that time, nothing had been heard of him at St. Gall. For these reasons, instead of the lively sportsman, Ekkehard had expected to find a serious, meagre and pale-faced scholar. The shores of Radolfszell were soon reached. A thin silver coin, stamped on one side only, satisfied the boat-man, and then the two stepped on shore. A few houses and a handful of fishermen's huts, surrounded the little church, which holds the remains of St. Radolf. "We have reached Moengal's dwelling," said the old man. "Be pleased to enter. It's to be hoped that you will not carry tales about my house, to the Bishop of Constance, like the deacon of Rheingau, who pretended that he found the jugs and drinking-horns, of a size, which ought to have been objectionable, in any century." They entered into a wainscoted hall. Stag-antlers and bison-horns hung over the entrance; while spears and fishing-tackle of every description, ornamented the walls in picturesque confusion. Close to a reversed tun in one corner, stood a dice-box,--in fact, if it had not been the abode of the parish-priest, it might have been that of an imperial gamekeeper. A few moments later, a jug of somewhat sour wine as well as a loaf of bread and some butter, were placed on the oak table; and when the priest returned from an expedition to the kitchen, he held up his habit like a filled apron, and poured down a shower of smoked fish, before his guest. "_Heu quod anseres fugasti, antvogelasque et horotumblum!_ Alas that you should have frightened away, the wild geese, as well as the ducks and moor-fowls!" said he, "but when a person has to choose between smoked fish and nothing, he always chooses the former." Members of the same fraternity are quickly at their ease with each other; and a lively conversation was kept up during the meal. But the old man had far more questions to put, than Ekkehard could well answer. Of many a one of his former brothers, nothing else was to be told, but that his coffin had been laid in the vault; side by side with the others; a cross on the wall, besides an entry in the death-register, being the sole traces left, that he had ever lived. The stories, jokes and quarrels, which had been told, thirty years ago, had been replaced by new ones, and all that had happened lately, did not interest him much. Only when Ekkehard told him about the end and aim of his journey he exclaimed: "_Oho confrater!_ how could you cry out against all sport, when you yourself aim at such noble deer!"