a soldier of fortune,
whereupon he invited him with simple cordiality to become his guest. The
proffer of hospitality was gratefully accepted, and the kindly old man
led the stranger to his home.

The old priest, though not a little curious with regard to his guest's
previous history, forbore out of courtesy to question him, but
the warmth and cheer soon loosened the trumpeter's tongue, and he
volunteered to tell the old man his story. Shorn of detail, it ran
as follows: The soldier's youth had been passed at the University of
Heidelberg, where he had lived a gay and careless life, paying so little
attention to his studies that at the end of his course his only asset
was a knowledge of music, picked up from a drunken trumpeter in exchange
for the wherewithal to satisfy his thirst. The legal profession, which
his guardian had designed for him, was clearly impossible with such
meagre acquirements, so he had joined a cavalry regiment and fought in
the Thirty Years' War. At the end of the war his horse and his trumpet
were his sole possessions, and from that time he had wandered through
the world, gaining a scanty livelihood with the aid of his music. Such
was his history.

That night Werner--for so the young man was called--slept soundly in the
house of the old priest, and next morning he rose early to attend the
festival of St. Fridolin, in celebration of which a procession was
organized every year at Saeckingen. There, at the head of a band of
girls, he beheld a maid who outshone them all in beauty and grace, and
to her he immediately lost his heart. From that moment the gaieties of
the festival had no attraction for him, and he wandered disconsolately
among the merry-makers, thinking only of the lovely face that had caught
his fancy.

Toward nightfall he embarked in a little boat and floated idly down
the Rhine. Suddenly, to his amazement, there arose from the water the
handsome, youthful figure of the Rhine-god, who had recognized in his
pale cheek and haggard eye the infallible signs of a lover. Indicating a
castle at the edge of the river, the apparition informed Werner that his
lady-love dwelt therein, and he bade him take heart and seek some mode
of communicating with her. At this Werner plucked up courage to row
ashore to his lady's abode. There in the garden, beneath a lighted
window, he played an exquisite serenade, every perfect note of which
told of his love and grief and the wild hopes he would never dare