ning in the small current money of the times,
Albert took his leave of his kind landlady, who though her opinion of
him was somewhat changed since he first entered her house, proceeding
from an air of mystery about his character which she could not account
for, still she could not conceal from herself, when he threw himself
into the saddle by the light of a torch, that she had seldom seen a
handsomer youth. She therefore impressed upon the lad who accompanied
him to be very careful, and keep an especial look out upon the
gentleman, "who," she added, "did not appear to be quite right in his
head." Having reached the outer gate of Pfullingen, the guide asked his
new master where he wished to go? and upon his answer, "to
Lichtenstein," took a road to the right, leading to the mountains.
Albert rode on in profound silence; he looked not to the right nor to
the left, neither at the stars over head nor in the distant horizon;
his eye only sought the ground. His mind now was in much the same state
as at that moment when a blow from the hand of an enemy laid him
senseless on the ground. His thoughts stood still, hope no longer
animated him, he had ceased to love and to wish. But at that time, when
he sank, exhausted, on nature's cool carpet, his last thoughts were
cheered with the endearing recollection of his beloved, and his
benumbed lips were still able to pronounce once more her idolized name.

But that light seemed to be extinguished which had hitherto guided his
steps. It appeared as if he had but a short distance still to go in the
dark, in order to seek his peace of mind in a light different to that
he had fondly hoped to find on the Lichtenstein rock. His right hand
went occasionally to his sword, as if to assure himself that at least
this companion was faithful to him, for he now trusted to it alone, as
the important key by which he might open the door that would lead from
darkness to light.

The travellers had long since reached the wood; the path became
steeper, and the horse with difficulty ascended the hill with his
rider, who was, however, unconscious of all surrounding objects. The
night air blew cool, and played with the flowing locks of the young
man,--he felt not its effects; the moon rose and lighted up the road,
which ascended amidst huge masses of rock and tall oaks, under which he
passed,--he noticed them not; time flowed on unobserved by him; hour
followed hour in rapid succession, unheeded by his troub