Now that the two children were dressed they were taken along for breakfast in the adjoining room. Early in the morning bread had been baked, and with the milk soup the little ones received each a fresh loaf of cummin seed bread, and in place of the one sweet roll which on ordinary days was specially baked for Kuengolt, there were two that day, and the little girl would have it that the boy received the larger of them. Dietegen ate without urging all that was offered him, just as though he had returned to his father's house after an enforced stay with evil strangers. But he was very still throughout, and he keenly observed everything around him: the pleasant mild woman who treated him like her own son, the sunny, light room, and the comfortable furniture with which it was fitted up. And after having eaten his breakfast with a good appetite, he continued these observations, noticing that the walls were wainscoted with smooth pine, and higher up decorated with painted wreaths and flowers, and that the leaded window panes showed the arms both of husband and wife. When he also carefully inspected the handsome closets and the sideboard with its load of shining vessels and tableware, he suddenly remembered the dingy silver jug that had almost brought him to his death, and the cheerless house of the beadle in Ruechenstein, and then, afraid that he should have to return there again, he asked with a tremor in his voice: "Must I now return home? But I don't know the way." "There is no need of your knowing it," said the housewife, moved by his evident dread, and she stroked his smooth chin. "Have you not yet noticed that you are to remain with us? Go along with him now, my little Kuengolt, and show him the house and the woods, and everything else. But do not go too far away!"