two shook hands and parted with much cordiality. Rodolph made his way to his room in the tower, followed by Conrad. There they found the archer, seemingly in deep dejection.
"Well," cried Rodolph, "are you returned already? What luck have you had with the poet?"
"Roger is as stubborn as a mule, my Lord, and insists that his oath to the Archbishop will not allow him to let me pass through the lines. A plague on his good principles. I never let my principles interfere with the serving of a friend."
"Is it so, honest John? You would, then, at the request of Roger, allow me to be captured by the Archbishops?"
"Oh, no, my Lord," replied the archer, in astonishment at the bare suggestion. "Not for all the friends that were ever weaned in England would I betray your Lordship."
"I am sure of it. Therefore must we not be too severe on the poet if he refuses to do for one friend what you would not do for a whole regiment of them. Where is our faithful rhymester on guard?"
"He stands in the valley of the Thaurand, in a most excellent position for our escape, and that is the pity of it, curses on his stubbornness. We could slip through to the stream and either up the opposite hill or along the water course to the Moselle quite unmolested, once we were past the lines. If your honour commands me to do it, I will send an arrow through his unfriendly heart, although I must say I would loosen string with grief and bitterness in my own; then we may pass unchecked."
"No, no. Such a trial shall not be put upon you. The arrow is silent, and if it be necessary we will send it through the heart of another on the line, and step over his body. But it is best to attain our object bloodlessly, if possible, for a man killed may cause the hue and cry to be raised after us. Has Roger no poetry to recite to you? No new verses or changes in the old, regarding which he wishes your sage opinions?"
"Oh, he has plenty of new verse, curse him, but I told him I would not wait to hear, saying I believed him no true poet at all, thus leaving him in deep melancholy, leaning on his bow regardless of the strain upon it, as I bent my way up the hill."
"'Tis a pity author and critic should part in anger. Will you then make your way to him again, taking your bow and a well-filled quiver with you. Apologise for your remarks reflecting on his quality as poet; say your bad temper made you speak, and not your critical judgment. Induce him to recite all that is new in his composition, and also some of the old verses, until you hear my signal on the other side of the valley. Then break his bow so that he may not injure you, and fly to us. During the recital we will steal through as silently as we can, trusting to the poet's fervour of genius for our being unseen and unheard. Win to us then if you can; should this be impossible, Conrad and I will have to make our way down the Moselle without you. I will give you an hour to make your peace with the offended Roger, then, when you hear the night bird's cry, know that we are about to steal through the lines. Keep Roger busily engaged without rest until the cry comes to you again from the other side of the valley. If he discover us and is about to give the alarm, I trust that you will let friendship fly to the winds for a short time and promptly throttle him, escaping after, as best you may."
"I will do all I can, even if I have to wring his long neck," said the archer, buckling quiver to his back and taking up his bow. When he had gone Rodolph turned to Conrad.
"Hilda has had a somewhat exciting evening of it, and will be glad to have assurance that you are unhurt. Seek her out, therefore, and bid her farewell for a few days. Ask her, so that you may not be interrupted during your parting, to deliver a message to the Countess Tekla from me. Tell the Countess that I am on the battlements and beg of her indulgence that she meet me there. I value you so highly, Conrad, that I will myself engage the Countess in conversation, so that Hilda may not be called upon by her Ladyship, until your conference is ended. Thus I hope to merit the gratitude of both Hilda and yourself."
"Thank you, my Lord," said Conrad, with a smile as he departed on his mission.
The young Emperor, his hands clasped behind him, paced up and down the broad promenade in the moonlight. He was now at last on the eve of achievement; about to return to his capital and take his rightful place at the head of the State. An army awaited him, quietly accumulated and efficiently drilled. This huge weapon was ready to his hand to be wielded absolutely as pleased him, for the good or for the evil of his country. The young man pondered gravely on the situation. What would be the result? Bloodshed and civil war, or peace and prosperity in the land? Would the Archbishops fight when he ordered the siege to be raised, or would they obey his command? Only a few more moonlight nights lay between him and this knowledge. As he meditated on his danger and hopes, the white slender figure of the Countess came up the steps to the promenade, and he rushed forward to meet her with both hands outstretched.
"Ah, Tekla," he said, "it is kind of you to come."
The girl put her hands in his, but there was an expression of concern on her face.
"What has uncle done with Captain Steinmetz?" she asked.
"He was a traitor," said Rodolph, sternly.
"I know, I know, but for long he was in my uncle's service, and he has been these two years one of our defenders. Perhaps, half starved, he succumbed to the temptation of a moment. His years of good faith should not be forgotten at this time. Is he in prison?"
"No. The Black Count bound him and sent him, with a warlike message, to the Archbishop of Treves."
"Oh," cried the girl, much relieved, "I am glad that nothing more severe was done. I feared my uncle, in his just anger, might have acted harshly, but I think you have had a good influence on him, Rodolph. I have noted, with gladness, how he defers to you."
"I suppose we influence more or less all those with whom we come into contact. I should be glad to believe that I had a benign effect upon his conduct, but, before arriving at a definite conclusion in the matter, I shall await further proof of his Lordship's leaning towards clemency and softness of speech."
"What further proof could you wish than the incident to-night? I assure you, and you are yourself very well aware, that two years ago, yes, and often since then, my uncle would have killed Steinmetz on evidence of such treachery."
"I think he would have deserved his fate, Tekla; and now I beg of you dismiss the traitor for ever from your mind, and give your unworthy lover some space in your thoughts. I am about to quit the castle, and I ask your good wishes in my venture. I hope shortly to return at the head of my own men, and have some influence on the siege if I have little with your uncle."
"To leave the castle? Does my uncle know?"
"Yes, and he cordially approves my scheme. Furthermore, he has no doubts about my loyalty, for he says he is cognizant of the fact that I leave one within the castle to whom I shall be most eager to return, which is, indeed, the case, my Tekla."
"He knows that also, does he?" replied the girl, blushing, and hiding her blushes on the shoulder of her lover.
Rodolph, bending over and caressing her, undid a knot of ribbon at her throat, kissing the white neck thus laid bare.
"I shall wear your colours on my arm, Tekla, till I return, if you will but tie them there and entangle your good wishes with the knot."
The girl tied the shred of ribbon on his arm, daintily pressing her lips to the knot when it was in place.
"There," she cried, looking up at him with moist and glistening eyes, "that will bring you safely to me; but, Rodolph, you will be careful and not rash. Do not jeopardise your own safety for—for us. I fear your men are but few, and if that is the case, do not, I beg of you, adventure life in a hopeless enterprise. Let us rather surrender and throw ourselves on the mercy of the Archbishop."
"I should scarcely care to trust to his tender heart, but you may be sure I shall use all caution. I think my men will be ample in number for the task I shall set to them, and in any case we will be strong in the justice of our cause and the prayers of our Lady. And now Tekla, I must be gone and trust myself to the outcome of the night. I hear Conrad approaching with a clumsy noisiness that betokens a desire to deal with others as he would be dealt with himself. His coming shows