r time enough to
thank Heaven sufficiently for such a daughter.

The maiden who was the subject of this whispering, whose purport only a
loving glance from the Lady Wendula revealed, pressed her hand upon her
heart, whose impetuous throbbing stifled her breath. Oh, how gladly she
would have hastened to the mother of the man she loved and his young
sister, who stood at a modest distance, to clasp them in her arms, and
confide to them what seemed too great, too much, too beautiful for
herself alone, yet which might crumble at a single word from her lover's
lips like an undermined tower swept away by the wind! But she was forced
to have patience, and submit to whatever might yet be allotted to her.

Nor was she to lack agitating experiences, for the Emperor's murmured
question whether she desired to hear herself called "daughter" by this
admirable lady had scarcely called forth an answer, which, though mute,
revealed the state of her heart eloquently enough, than he added in a
louder tone, though doubtfully: "Then, so far, all would be well; but,
fair maiden, my young friend, unfortunately, was by no means satisfied,
if I heard aright, with knocking at the door of a single heart. Things
have reached my ears--But this, too, must be----"

Here he suddenly paused, for already during this conversation with the
ladies there had been a noise at the door of the hall, and now the person
whom the Emperor had just accused entered, closely followed by the
chamberlain, Count Ebenhofen, whose face was deeply flushed from his vain
attempts to keep Sir Heinz Schorlin back.

Heinz's cheeks were also glowing from his struggle with the courtier, who
considered it a grave offence that a knight should dare to appear before
the Emperor at a peaceful social assembly clad in full armour.

His appearance created a joyful stir among the other members of the
court--nay, in spite of the sovereign's presence, cordial expressions of
welcome fell from the lips of ladies and nobles. The Bohemian princess
alone cast an angry glance at the blue ribbon which adorned the helmet of
the returning knight; for "blue" was Countess von Montfort's colour, and
"rose red" her own.

The ecclesiastics whom Heinz passed whispered eagerly together. The
Duchess Agnes's confessor, an elderly Dominican of tall stature, was
listening to the provost of St. Sebald's, a grey-haired man a head
shorter than he, of dignified yet kindly aspect, who, looking keenly at
Heinz,