the breakfast-parlor window, (to
invite his guest to enter, as the tea was made,) beheld this strange
scene from the window, as did the lovely tea-maker likewise, with
breathless and beautiful agitation. The old Count and the archer
strolled up and down the battlements in deep conversation. By the
gestures of surprise and delight exhibited by the former, 'twas easy to
see the young archer was conveying some very strange and pleasing
news to him; though the nature of the conversation was not allowed to
transpire.

"A godson of mine," said the noble Count, when interrogated over his
muffins. "I know his family; worthy people; sad scapegrace; ran away;
parents longing for him; glad you did not flog him; devil to pay," and
so forth. The Count was a man of few words, and told his tale in this
brief, artless manner. But why, at its conclusion, did the gentle Helen
leave the room, her eyes filled with tears? She left the room once more
to kiss a certain lock of yellow hair she had pilfered. A dazzling,
delicious thought, a strange wild hope, arose in her soul!

When she appeared again, she made some side-handed inquiries regarding
Otto (with that gentle artifice oft employed by women); but he was gone.
He and his companion were gone. The Count of Hombourg had likewise taken
his departure, under pretext of particular business. How lonely the
vast castle seemed to Helen, now that HE was no longer there. The
transactions of the last few days; the beautiful archer-boy; the offer
from the Rowski (always an event in a young lady's life); the siege
of the castle; the death of her truculent admirer: all seemed like a
fevered dream to her: all was passed away, and had left no trace behind.
No trace?--yes! one: a little insignificant lock of golden hair, over
which the young creature wept so much that she put it out of curl;
passing hours and hours in the summer-house, where the operation had
been performed.

On the second day (it is my belief she would have gone into a
consumption and died of languor, if the event had been delayed a day
longer,) a messenger, with a trumpet, brought a letter in haste to the
Prince of Cleves, who was, as usual, taking refreshment. "To the High
and Mighty Prince," &c. the letter ran. "The Champion who had the honor
of engaging on Wednesday last with his late Excellency the Rowski of
Donnerblitz, presents his compliments to H. S. H. the Prince of Cleves.
Through the medium of the public prints the C. h