Herr
Tausdorf, dear boy?"
"Yes, indeed, from my very heart," replied the little one. "He is
always so kind to me, brings me pretty things, and has often let me
ride upon his gray horse. I love him more than uncle Netz and all the
other knights who visit you. He does not swear and curse so terribly as
they do, nor drink such monstrous quantities of wine. I have never
either seen him drunk, like uncle Netz, who often cuts a vile figure
with the fiery face and glassy eyes. Then he is always so kind and
sedate; and I do not know how he manages it, but when he bids or
forbids me any thing, I cannot help obeying him, however great my
inclination to be froward."
"But you are fond of uncle Schindel?" said Althea, to conceal her
delight in the child's answer.
"Oh yes! but then he is a little too old for me. I always think of him
as of my grandfather: while Herr Tausdorf is still so handsome, and
full of life and energy. It is so I fancy my father must have looked.
Oh, if Herr Tausdorf were my father! I would follow him at his nod, and
love him--almost as much as yourself, dear mother."
"Sweet boy!" cried Althea transported, and hid her burning forehead in
the golden locks of the child.
Three slow, orderly raps were given at the door, but occupied with
other matters, she paid no attention to them; at last in walked
Christopher Friend, in splendid doublet and rich pantaloons of sky-blue
velvet, slashed with green, and trussed with gold points, and a broad
collar about his neck of real Brabant lace. With great courteousness
and much dignity, he waved his richly feathered cap in salutation. The
first glance, that Althea cast upon his crafty knavish face,
extinguished every spark of joy in her breast, and with icy coldness
she asked what was Master Friend's pleasure?
"Noble lady, I have lived long enough in the dreary state of widowhood
to know all its inconveniences, and to desire a change. I want a wife
of good person, good birth, and gentle manners; and, considering the
great wealth with which the Lord has blest me, I believe myself well
worthy of such a one. Worthiest Althea, my choice has fallen upon you.
It has, indeed, cost me no little eloquence to wring from my father his
consent to this match, of which he would not hear at first, on account
of the violent quarrels between the nobility and citizens and the
mutual bitterness that has grown out of them. At last, however, I
succeeded in bending his obstinacy, and
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