the castle walls, half respected, half feared by the
other inmates, for it was dangerous trifling with the one-eyed Hans.

II. How the Baron went Forth to Shear.

Baron Conrad and Baroness Matilda sat together at their morning meal
below their raised seats stretched the long, heavy wooden table, loaded
with coarse food--black bread, boiled cabbage, bacon, eggs, a great
chine from a wild boar, sausages, such as we eat nowadays, and flagons
and jars of beer and wine, Along the board sat ranged in the order of
the household the followers and retainers. Four or five slatternly women
and girls served the others as they fed noisily at the table, moving
here and there behind the men with wooden or pewter dishes of food, now
and then laughing at the jests that passed or joining in the talk. A
huge fire blazed and crackled and roared in the great open fireplace,
before which were stretched two fierce, shaggy, wolfish-looking hounds.
Outside, the rain beat upon the roof or ran trickling from the eaves,
and every now and then a chill draught of wind would breathe through the
open windows of the great black dining-hall and set the fire roaring.

Along the dull-gray wall of stone hung pieces of armor, and swords and
lances, and great branching antlers of the stag. Overhead arched the
rude, heavy, oaken beams, blackened with age and smoke, and underfoot
was a chill pavement of stone.

Upon Baron Conrad's shoulder leaned the pale, slender, yellow-haired
Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the fierce lord of
Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only one upon whom his savage
brows looked kindly, and to whom his harsh voice softened with love.

The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he looked
down into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.

"And wilt thou not, then," said she, "do that one thing for me?"

"Nay," he growled, in his deep voice, "I cannot promise thee never more
to attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder. How else could I
live an' I did not take from the fat town hogs to fill our own larder?"

"Nay," said the Baroness, "thou couldst live as some others do, for all
do not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap will come upon
thee some day, and if thou shouldst be slain, what then would come of
me?"

"Prut," said the Baron, "thy foolish fears" But he laid his rough, hairy
hand softly upon the Baroness' head and stroked her yellow hair.

"For my sak