my shawl and my hair, but I was
conscious of one thought: You must save the helpless little creature's
mother! So I called and lured her, as I do at home, where all the cows
are fond of me, but it was useless; and just as I perceived this the
thatched roof fell in, and I should probably have perished had not
Altrosen this time carried my own by no means light figure out of the
stable instead of the calf."

"And you?" asked Els eagerly.

"I submitted," replied the countess.

"No, no," urged Els. "Your heart throbbed faster with grateful joy, for
you saw the desire of your soul fulfilled. A hunter, and one of the
noblest of them all, risked his life in the pursuit of your love. O
Countess Cordula, I remember that knight well, and if the dark-blue
sleeve which he wore on his helm in the tournament was yours--"

"I believe it was," Cordula interrupted indifferently. "But, what was of
more importance, when I opened my eyes again the cow was standing
outside, licking her recovered calf."

"And the knight?" asked Els. "Whoever so heroically risks his life for
his lady's wish should be sure of her gratitude."

"Boemund can rely on that," said Cordula positively. "At least, what he
did this time for my sake weighs more heavily in the scale than the
lances he has broken, his love songs, or the mute language of his longing
eyes. Those are shafts which do not pierce my heart. How reproachfully
you look at me! Let him take lessons from his friend Heinz Schorlin, and
he may improve. Yes, the Swiss knight! He would be the man for me, spite
of your involuntary meeting with him and your devout sister, for whom he
forgot every one else, and me also, in the dancing hall. O Jungfrau Els,
I have the hunter's eyes, which are keen-sighted! For his sake your
beautiful Eva, with her saintly gaze, might easily forget to pray. It was
not you, but she, who drew him to-night to your house. Had this thought
entered my head downstairs in the entry I should probably, to be honest,
have omitted my little fairy tale and let matters take their course. St.
Clare ought to have protected her future votary. Besides, it pleases the
arrogant little lady to show me as plainly as possible, on every
occasion, that I am a horror to her. Let those who will accept such
insults. My Christianity does not go far enough to offer her the right
cheek too. And shall I tell you something? To spoil her game, I should be
capable, in spite of all the life preservers in t