Philemon brought an immense jug fall of foaming warm milk. He threw a wondering look on the two Germans, whom his mistress had represented to him as protectors, not enemies, and he went again to the back of the house. Felicitas followed him to fetch the child, which seemed to be waking. "Tell me now, grim teacher and armour-master," began Liuthari, "wilt thou in thine old age learn woman's handiwork, and the art of using thread? What hast thou there trailing at thy girdle?" Quite taken aback the old giant looked down at his portly person, and at the long, long thread which was entangled about his clumsy feet. "That? Oh, that is only something between the mistress and myself. She has become so fond of me--much more so than of thee--and that I should not escape her, she bound me fast to her couch." "Thou wouldest complain of me to my mother----!" "Yes; if I had not kept watch, who knows----!" "Now I will accuse _thee_ to thy wife, the strict Grimmtrud, that thou didst bind thyself to the couch of a young beauty." The young man stooped down, picked up the ball, and put it in his vest. "I shall keep the thread," continued he gravely, "as a remembrance of the hour when Haduwalt slept, the thread lay loose on the ground, but Liuthari watched--for three." Felicitas after a while again came in, the child on her arm. "The day advances," sighed she, "and I begin to be very anxious. My Fulvius, where mayest thou be?" "Here I am," cried a joyous, clear voice, and the longed-for husband rushed in through the open doorway. With a cry of happiness Felicitas sprang up. He folded mother and child tenderly in his arms. Liuthari rose. He looked at them without pain, and regarded the husband with a frank, happy look, who, however, astonished, drew back a step, and measured the handsome young man with his eyes. Hot fear flashed through him in an instant; but the alarm disappeared, fleeing like a cloud-shadow, when he looked into His wife's face, so peaceful, so radiantly happy. "What has happened to me, my darling? The day before yesterday shut up in the debtor's tower, early yesterday set free by Severus, taken by him to the battle--we were defeated--I fled, was pursued, fell into the river, was carried away by the stream--half stupefied I at last reached the bank--was taken prisoner by other horsemen, led into the town, and this morning--saved by a miracle of the Lord or the holy Saint Peter, I know not which." "A miracle! Oh, thank the mercy of the God of heaven! He heard my prayer! But what miracle?"