complishment over those of the
times we narrate. The interest they now take in learned discussion and
political argument, and the thirst for novelty which induces many to
crowd the rooms of the scientific lecturer, would seem, in some
instances, to intrude on the more important duty of domestic
employment. Not so was the time of the Swabian matrons and young women
occupied. The charge of the house was their sole vocation; but, upon
occasions such as the present, their delight was to witness the manly
exercise of men, whose bloody strifes were even not unwelcome to their
sight. Many a beautiful eye flashed with the noble desire of belonging
to a brave combatant. Deep blushes adorned many a cheek, not so much
from the fear of seeing her beloved in danger as to witness his retreat
from the scene of action, when it was attended with disgrace, or when
his arm wielded his sword less powerfully than his antagonist.

Horses were even brought into the hall on this evening, and Bertha had
the joy to see her husband obtain a second applause for having made
George von Hewen stagger two different times in his saddle. Duke
Ulerich von Wuertemberg was the bravest combatant of his day, and an
ornament to the order of knighthood. History relates of him that, on
the day of his own wedding, he overthrew eight of the strongest knights
of Swabia and Franconia.

After the tilting had lasted some time, the company adjourned to the
hall of the knights for dancing, when the victors of the different
games had the precedence in the ball, in all respects similar to the
one we have already described. The Duke appeared to have pinned all
anxiety and care of the future upon the hump of his chancellor, who sat
in a window like a demon of evil destiny, looking upon the surrounding
scene with bitter smiles. Raging under an envious feeling of spite, by
being debarred from joining in the pleasures of the evening in
consequence of the deformity of his person, he remained in his position
in sullen silence.

At the end of the last dance Ulerich, the crown of the feast, proposed
a parting toast to the young and beautiful bride, but neither he nor
Albert could find her in any part of the room. The whisperings and
smiles of the ladies betrayed the secret of her having been led away by
six of the handsomest maidens, who accompanied her to her dwelling,
and, as the custom of those days would have it, to perform the
mysterious services of waiting maids.

"Sic