Bertha met him on the
landing place with the appearance of having been weeping. She took him
on one side, and whispered, "Tread softly, Albert; the knight of the
cavern is still with us; he has been asleep about an hour; we must not
disturb him."

"The exile!" asked Albert in astonishment, "does he dare remain here
during the day? what has happened? is he unwell?"

"No!" answered Bertha, whilst a fresh tear hung on her eyelid, "no! he
expects a messenger from Tuebingen about this time, and is determined to
await him. We begged and prayed him to depart before daybreak, but he
would not listen to our warning, so firm is his resolution to remain at
all hazards."

"But could not the messenger have gone to him in the cavern?" said
Albert; "he runs too great a risk unnecessarily."

"Ah! you don't know him; it is his bane when he once gets a thing into
his head to be obstinately immoveable; and then he is so distrustful of
others, even of his best friends. It was quite impossible for us to
persuade him to leave the castle this morning, because he might have
thought, perhaps, we wished to get rid of him for our own safety. His
principal reason for remaining is, I believe, to consult with my
father, when the messenger arrives."

During this conversation they remained stationary on the landing place,
but Bertha now opened the door of her father's apartment as gently as
possible, and they entered together.

This room, or what would be called in a modern establishment the
gentlemen's room, was distinguished from the saloon on the second floor
from being somewhat smaller. It had a view of the surrounding country
on three sides, through small round windows, now pierced by the sun's
morning rays. The ceiling and walls were wainscoted with dark brown
wood, fancifully inlaid with other coloured woods. A few portraits of
the ancestors of Lichtenstein graced the side of the wall opposite to
the windows, and the tables and furniture shewed that the present
occupier of the castle was a friend of old customs and times, and that
his property would descend to his daughter in the same unaltered state
it had been left by his great-grandfather.

The old knight was seated at a large table in the middle of the room
when they entered. Supporting his long-bearded chin in his hand, he sat
gloomy and motionless, with his eyes fixed on a large goblet which
stood before him. It was not quite evident to Albert whether he had
been sitting up all n