"I want to build a monastery, like Findelkind of Arlberg, and to
help the poor," said our Findelkind, valorously, though his heart
was beating like that of a little mouse caught in a trap; for the
horses were trampling up the dust around him, and the orderly's
grip was hard.
The officers laughed aloud; and indeed he looked a poor little
scrap of a figure, very ill able to help even himself.
"Why do you laugh?" cried Findelkind, losing his terror in his
indignation, and inspired with the courage which a great
earnestness always gives. "You should not laugh. If you were true
knights, you would not laugh; you would fight for me. I am little,
I know,--I am very little,--but he was no bigger than I; and see
what great things he did. But the soldiers were good in those
days; they did not laugh and use bad words--"
And Findelkind, on whose shoulder the orderly's hold was still
fast, faced the horses, which looked to him as huge as Martinswand,
and the swords, which he little doubted were to be sheathed in his
heart.
The officers stared, laughed again, then whispered together, and
Findelkind heard them say the word "crazed." Findelkind, whose
quick little ears were both strained like a mountain leveret's,
understood that the great men were saying among themselves that it
was not safe for him to be about alone, and that it would be
kinder to him to catch and cage him--the general view with which
the world regards enthusiasts.
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