Burgrave, Eitelfritz von Zollern, framed by the hood of the Knights of
St. John, drawn up during the night-ride; there the pale, noble visage
of the quiet knight Boemund Altrosen, far famed for his prowess with
lance and sword; beyond, the scarred, martial countenance of Count
Casper Schlick, set in a mass of tangled brown locks; and then the
watery, blue eyes of Sir Seitz Siebenburg, the husband of her future
sister-in-law Isabella.

They had pressed in, talking eagerly, laughing, and rejoicing that the
wild night ride proposed by Cordula von Montfort, which had led over
dark forest paths, lighted only by a stray moonbeam, and often across
fields and ditches and through streams, had ended without mischance to
man or beast.

Now they all crowded around the countess, Seitz Siebenburg bending
towards her with such zeal that the ends of his huge mustache brushed
the plumes in her cap, and Boemund Altrosen, who had just been gazing
into the flushed face of the daring girl with the warm joy of true love,
cast a look of menace at him.

Els, too, greatly disliked "the Mustache," as her future brother-in-law
was called because the huge ornament on his upper lip made him
conspicuous among the beardless knights. She was aware that he returned
the feeling, and had left no means untried to incite Wolff Eysvogel's
parents to oppose his betrothal. Now he was one of the first to notice
her and, after whispering with a malicious smile to the countess and
those nearest to him, he looked at her so malevolently that she could
easily guess what interpretation he was trying to put upon her nocturnal
meeting with the Swiss in the eyes of his companions.

Her cheeks flamed with wrath, and like a flash of lightning came the
thought of the pleasure it would afford this wanton company, whose
greatest delight was to gloat over the errors of their neighbours, if
the knight who had brought her into this suspicious situation, or she
herself, should confess that not she, but the devout Eva, had attracted
Heinz hither. What a satisfaction it would be to this reckless throng to
tell such a tale of a young girl of whom the Burgravine von Zollern had
said the evening before to their Uncle Pfinzing, that purity and piety
had chosen Eva's lovely face for a mirror!

What if Heinz Schorlin, to save her, Els, from evil report, should
confess that she was here only to rebuke his insolent intrusion into a
decorous household?

This must be prevented, an