took a
broad gold ring from his finger. A large red stone was set in the
middle, upon which was engraved, in the armorial helmet, the three stag
horns,[1] with the bugle, which Albert recognised as the arms of
Wuertemberg. Around the ring were the letters, U.D.O.W.A.T. in relievo,
the meaning of which he could not comprehend.

"Udowat? what does that name signify?" he asked. "Is it a parole for
the followers of the Duke?"

"No, my young friend," said the exile. "The Duke has worn this ring
long on his finger; he valued it much; but as I have many other
souvenirs from him, I can best spare it, and could not place it in
worthier hands. The letters mean, Ulerich, Duke of Wuertemberg and
Teck."

"I shall value it as long as I live," replied Albert, "as a relic of
the unfortunate Prince whose name it bears, and as a pleasing
remembrance of you, sir knight, and the night we passed together in
this cavern."

"When you come to the drawbridge of Lichtenstein," continued the
knight, "deliver a note which I will write, and this ring, to the first
servant you see, and desire them to be conveyed to the lord of the
castle, when he will certainly receive you as the Duke's own son. But
for the lady, you must use your own passport, for my charm does not
extend to her: a tender squeeze of the hand, or the mysterious language
of the eyes, or perhaps still better, a sweet kiss on her rosy lips,
will serve the purpose. But in order to appear before her as she would
wish to see you, you need some rest, for if you pass the whole night
without sleep, your eyes will be heavy. Therefore follow my example,
stretch yourself on the deer skin, and make a pillow of your cloak. And
you, worthy major domo, grand chamberlain and purveyor, Hans, faithful
companion in misfortune, give this Paladin another glass for his
nightcap, it will soften his deer-skin, and enchant this rocky grotto
into a bed-room. And then may the god of dreams visit him with his
choicest gifts!"

The men drank a good night to each other, and laid themselves to rest,
Hans taking up his position as a faithful dog, at the entrance of the
rocky chamber. Morpheus soon came with light steps to the aid of the
young man, and as he was dropping off to sleep he heard, in a half
doze, the exile saying his evening prayer, and, with pious confidence
in the Disposer of events, imploring him to shower down his almighty
protection on him and his unhappy country.

FOOTNOTES TO CHAPTER X