stretched out his hand from under his cloak, and offered it to the
astonished youth, who hesitated, however, to take it. The skill with
which he wielded his sword, and the heavy blows he dealt out,
strengthened Albert in his opinion, that his opponent was accustomed to
the use of his weapon; and that he was a man of honourable and generous
character, seemed satisfactorily proved in the frank and unreserved
manner he proffered his hand when he became acquainted with his name.
Under these circumstances therefore he could scarcely forbear trusting
to his word. Still his mind could not in an instant shake off doubts of
being deceived under the specious dealings of the stranger, which made
him undecided to accept, without further reserve, the proffered
friendship of a man whom but the moment before he had looked upon as
his bitterest enemy.

"Who is it that offers me his hand?" demanded Albert; "I have given you
my name, it is but just you tell me yours."

The stranger threw his cloak back, and raising his hat, discovered to
Albert, by the light of the moon, a noble countenance, with a brilliant
sparkling eye, bearing the expression of commanding dignity. "Ask not
my name," said he, whilst a ray of sorrow played about his mouth; "that
I am a man of honour, is sufficient for you to know. I once, indeed,
bore a name which was upon a level with the most honourable in the
world; I once wore the golden spurs, and carried the waving plume of
feathers in my helmet, and, at the sound of my bugle, could assemble
hundreds of my people around me--but now all is lost. One thing alone
remains to me," he added, with indescribable dignity, taking the hand
of the young man with a firm grasp, "I am a man, and carry a sword,--

'Si fractus illabatur orbis
Impavidam ferient ruinae.'"

With these words he drew his hat again over his face, and throwing his
cloak over his person, withdrew, and was soon lost in the wood.

Albert von Sturmfeder stood in dumb astonishment, resting on his sword.
The commanding look of the stranger, his winning benevolent features,
his brave and generous conduct, filled his soul with admiration and
respect. Revenge, which had agitated his breast before he crossed
swords with him, no longer ruffled it, but gave way to the
contemplation of the virtues which his opponent had displayed in his
unexpected rencontre with one, whose life he might have taken in the
just defence of his own person. Bu