“Good! Excellent!” exclaimed the scholar. “Then I have just the thing. You were a hunter in the old days, I presume?” “Why, yes,” said Pan Andrew, wondering. “And you can sound the horn?” “That I can. And if I do say it, with more skill than any hunter in the Eastern Marches.” “Good! . . . But yet one thing. This news which you have imparted to me should be for the ears of the King alone. The treasure which you guard should be returned to him, it should become the property of the commonwealth. I know not what harm it has already done in the world; I only hope that it may do no more. Would you leave it with me for safe-keeping, perhaps?” “Would that I could. But it was the oath that I took to my father that it should never leave my hands while life remained—save to one person, and that person, the King of Poland.” “Then God be with you. Rest here until the horses are sold and then after hearing your son’s story we will think of to-morrow.” He called the mother and boy into his cell. “Why, here,” he said on hearing the story of Joseph’s adventure from his mother’s lips, “is the thing arranged to perfection. I know the place you mention and I know the scholar Kreutz as well. A curious man, and of certain strange disposition, but honest and sincere and a seeker after light. He is, I think, feared by the common people as are also many dwellers in the next street which has been since olden times inhabited by sorcerers and their ilk, and the court of his house is but little frequented. They tell strange tales of him, sometimes, most of which I know to be false. But it is just the place for your dwelling at present, since there is little likelihood of your being disturbed there.” At this so great a feeling of thankfulness came upon Joseph’s mother that she would have fallen to her knees and asked the good father for his blessing, but he restrained her. “Nay, daughter,” he said, “it is I who need thy blessing, since I know what fortitude and courage thy kind heart possesses.” She kissed his hand nevertheless, as did Joseph immediately afterward, and Pan Andrew turned away quickly lest they should see that his eyes were moist, for there is such power in kindness well bestowed that it touches the wells of human feeling. There was, too, something in this scholar-priest that went at once to the heart, some fine quality of feeling and spirituality that set him apart, though ever so sweetly and gently, from other men. A servant of the university was dispatched to sell the horses and cart, and Joseph with his father and mother sat down to await the man’s return. While they were waiting, there came a knocking upon the outside door. Jan Kanty went to it at once. A woman stood there, with a baby in her arms, not in the attitude of one asking for alms but of one seeking advice. She came, it seemed, from the Black Village and was suffering much from pains that took her legs and arms and neck.