e. Lovely Rothtraut felt afraid in her
heart like a trembling child crossing a bridge leading to flowery
meadows; she had no mother in whom she could confide those fears for
which she could find no words. She therefore yielded to her father's
desire, wishing to amuse him during the long, lonely evenings by
playing and singing. Singing came naturally to her, for a nightingale
seemed to slumber in her bosom, but she found more difficulty with the
harp. Her slender fingers drew many a discordant sound from the
strings, and often her father, comfortably seated in his armchair,
laughed heartily at her, which made the maiden blush with shame. Her
large eyes would wander from the harp to the musician's face; but her
confusion only became worse when her eyes timidly met his. He was very
patient with all her imperfect efforts, never blaming her but on the
contrary praising all her modest attempts beyond their merits. Then he
would sing a song of his own and play some deep chords which seemed to
thrill the air. The knight would listen entranced, and the maiden felt
love's blissful pain in her heart. She did not know what it was, or
how he had long since sung himself into her soul, and her tender heart
trembled at love's first revelation. The passion possessed her more
and more; it spread its power over these two hearts, and soon in the
quiet garden of the castle, Ronald clasped the daughter of the proud
knight to his heart.

III.

Love's first rapture is often followed by sorrow however, and
beautiful Rothtraut had yet to experience it.

It once happened that the knight surprised his child in the musician's
arms. His anger knew no bounds, and like a beast of prey he rushed at
the singer, when his daughter, suddenly become a woman, placed herself
bravely between her father and her lover. Her confession went to his
heart like a dagger, for with trembling lips and glowing cheeks, the
maiden acknowledged the secret of her love.

Pale but firm the singer stood before the knight.

"I am only a wanderer but not a dishonourable one. Do not destroy with
a rough hand the flower which God has planted in our hearts, but give
me time. I will set out on my journey and will take up arms for my
beloved. And when I come back as a nobleman, you will give me your
daughter who loves me. Either I shall return as a knight, or you will
never see me again."

The lord of the castle looked at him sternly, while his daughter stood
weeping, holdin