sed the denial as a matter of
conscience upon his protestant master. But here, as every where else,
power and rank at last conquered. The colonel's _corps_ received
orders to join Tilly's, who expected to fight a pitched battle, and he,
therefore, vehemently urged a quick decision. The baron, who could not
resist, announced to his pale daughter the following morning as the day
on which she was to be betrothed, adding with the utmost energy that
this was his unalterable will. He then left her quickly, fearing his
resolution might be changed by her imploring looks. The poor girl
retired into the garden unconscious of what she was doing, and standing
before the rose-tree which had witnessed the first kiss of Axel, looked
sorrowfully to the grotto of his last farewell. Suddenly a capuchin
friar, with a white beard, stood before her silently presenting half a
copper dollar. "For heaven's sake tell me whether you come from Axel?"
cried the lovely maiden trembling, while her pale cheeks were suffused
with blushes.

"I come from him," replied a strong unknown voice. "He now serves as
dragoon in the Swedish army, which is about to engage in a pitched
battle. Before this takes place he wishes once more to see you, and
bid you farewell. But at present he does not venture here, and
therefore entreats you to meet him this night on the Mordmuehle in the
_scharfen Thale_. You may bring the old magister with you, and safe
conduct is provided for you thither and back. Axel will wait there for
you until one o'clock, at which time his duty will oblige him to leave.
Will you come?"

"I will come," whispered the Fraeulein, after a short struggle.

The capuchin now hastened with long unfriar-like strides towards the
high garden wall, climbed it nimbly like a cat and disappeared. At
this moment Talander entered the garden to speak a few words of
consolation to his pupil concerning the terrible morrow. But his words
of unction died on his eloquent tongue, when the Fraeulein made him the
singular proposal to accompany her that night on a promenade to the
Mordmuehle. He refused, she entreated, he remonstrated, she coaxed him,
he was inexorable, she wept, and he, incapable of resisting tears from
such eyes said, at length '_concedo_.'

Whoever knew the Mordmuehle could not but think the demand of Axel
hazardous. It lay in a narrow valley formed by steep rocks, and lofty
black pines, through which rushed the dark fierce torrent