slate near him, came bowing and cringing up to him; while a
canon of the cathedral (whose name was Schidnischmidt) began grinning
and making fun at the pair. The ceremony was begun, and . . . .

As the clock struck twelve, young Otto bounded up, and remarked the
absence of his companion Wolfgang. The idea he had had, that his friend
disappeared in company with a white-robed female, struck him more and
more. "I will follow them," said he; and, calling to the next on the
watch (old Snozo, who was right unwilling to forego his sleep), he
rushed away by the door through which he had seen Wolfgang and his
temptress take their way.

That he did not find them was not his fault. The castle was vast, the
chamber dark. There were a thousand doors, and what wonder that, after
he had once lost sight of them, the intrepid Childe should not be able
to follow in their steps? As might be expected, he took the wrong door,
and wandered for at least three hours about the dark enormous solitary
castle, calling out Wolfgang's name to the careless and indifferent
echoes, knocking his young shins against the ruins scattered in the
darkness, but still with a spirit entirely undaunted, and a firm
resolution to aid his absent comrade. Brave Otto! thy exertions were
rewarded at last!

For he lighted at length upon the very apartment where Wolfgang had
partaken of supper, and where the old couple who had been in the
picture-frames, and turned out to be the lady's father and mother, were
now sitting at the table.

"Well, Bertha has got a husband at last," said the lady.

"After waiting four hundred and fifty-three years for one, it was quite
time," said the gentleman. (He was dressed in powder and a pigtail,
quite in the old fashion.)

"The husband is no great things," continued the lady, taking snuff. "A
low fellow, my dear; a butcher's son, I believe. Did you see how the
wretch ate at supper? To think my daughter should have to marry an
archer!"

"There are archers and archers," said the old man. "Some archers are
snobs, as your ladyship states; some, on the contrary, are gentlemen
by birth, at least, though not by breeding. Witness young Otto, the
Landgrave of Godesberg's son, who is listening at the door like a
lackey, and whom I intend to run through the--"

"Law, Baron!" said the lady.

"I will, though," replied the Baron, drawing an immense sword, and
glaring round at Otto: but though at the sight of that sword and that
scowl