he face with defiant sharpness, he added scornfully:

"I am warming the chain because it suits me to do so."

"You are allowed the pleasure," returned Wolff in an irritated tone;
"nay, I can understand that night birds of your sort find no better
amusement. Still, it seems to me that a knight who wishes to keep iron
hot might attain his object better in another way."

"Why, of course," cried Heinz Schorlin, springing swiftly to his feet
with rare elasticity. "It gives a pleasant warmth when blade strikes
blade or the hot blood wets them. I am no friend to darkness, and it
seems to me, sir, as if we were standing in each other's light here."

"There our opinions concur for the second time this lovely night,"
quietly replied the patrician's son, conscious of his unusual strength
and skill in fencing, with a slight touch of scorn. "Like you, I am
always ready to cross blades with another; only, the public street is
hardly the fitting place for it."

"May the plague take you!" muttered the Swiss in assent to Wolff's
opinion. "Besides, sir, who ever grasps iron so swiftly is worth a
parley. To ask whether you are of knightly lineage would be useless
trouble, and should it come to a genuine sword-dance.

"You will find a partner in me at any time," was the reply, "as I, who
wear my ancient escutcheon with good right, would gladly give you a
crimson memento of this hour--though you were but the son of a cobbler.
But first let us ascertain--for I, too, dislike darkness--whether we
are really standing in each other's light. With all due respect for
your fancy for warming chains, it would be wise, ere Sir Red Coat--[The
executioner]--puts his round our ankles for disturbing the peace, to
have a sensible talk."

"Try it, for aught I care," responded Heinz Schorlin cheerily.
"Unluckily for me, I live in a state of perpetual feud with good sense.
One thing, however, seems certain without any serious reflection: the
attraction which draws me here, as well as you, will not enter the
cloister as a monk, but as a little nun, wears no beard, but braids her
hair. Briefly, then, if you are here for Countess Cordula von Montfort's
sake, your errand is vain; she will sleep at Kadolzburg to-night."

"May her slumber be sweet!" replied Wolff calmly. "She is as near to me
as yonder moon."

"That gives the matter a more serious aspect," cried the knight angrily.
"You or I. What is your lady's name?"

"That, to my mind, is asking too m