Beildech, who during this interview had been preparing his master’s humble couch for the night, hazarded timidly a remonstrance as he took the cloak from Gutenberg’s shoulders. “Master Gutenberg, you ought not to have dismissed the young man in that manner; he appeared to me a good little fellow, and had he unloosed his tongue to you as he did to me, I am sure you would not have sent him away, for let me tell you it is owing to you that the poor lad is now without bread.” “Eh! why did you not say so sooner?” “Dare one ever speak to you in the presence of a stranger?” replied the attendant to his excited master; upon which he related in a few words the story of the dismissal from Fust, as he had just heard it from the little Frenchman himself. Gutenberg was no sooner acquainted with the chain of circumstances than he rushed to the window with the little panes framed in lead, opened it, and began calling after the young stranger. He had not proceeded far, and his cheeks were red with emotion as in a moment’s time he re-appeared before the old man. Gutenberg passed his thin hand complacently through the fair locks surrounding the happy young face. “Thou art a naughty boy,” he said, “and more than that, thou art a simpleton for not having told me all that thou hast suffered on my account from those tradesmen!” “Master, you were a stranger to me, and besides, what I did was less in honour of you than of your noble art, of which you are the sole inventor. Was it necessary to come here and boast, in order to win your good will? Be sure I should never have related what I did to that _famulus_ there if it had not been to beguile over weariness, and to kill the time, while we were both waiting your return.” The _naïve_ candour of the young Parisian completely conquered the heart of Gutenberg, and although midnight had long since struck, he told Beildech to bring a jug of wine; he sat down and desired his new apprentice to do the same. “For to-night you must, at any rate, remain here, all the taverns are now closed, and we will manage as well as we can. Beildech, make up a bed for the lad as you think best, but, above all, let us have quickly something to drink! That idle talk of the Syndic has stirred my bile, and if we drink later than usual we shall only sleep the better for it, and to-morrow being a holiday we need not be at the press at peep of day.”