he highest things, as no troubadour could do--oh, how
ardently he knew how to love, but to love the things which do not belong
to this world!"

Els longed to ask what Eva knew about the ardent fire of love; but
she restrained herself, darkened the bed as well as she could with the
movable curtain which hung from the ceiling on both sides above
the double couch, and said: "Be sensible, child, and put aside such
thoughts. How loudly the birds are twittering outside! If our father is
obliged to breakfast alone there may be a storm, and I should be glad
to have an hour's nap. You need slumber, too. Dancing is tiresome. Shut
your eyes and sleep as long as you can. I'll be as quiet as a mouse
while I am dressing."

As she spoke she turned away from her sister and no longer resisted the
sleep which soon closed her weary eyes.

CHAPTER V.

As her father had ordered the servants not to disturb the young girls,
Els did not wake till the sun was high in the heavens. Eva's place at
her side was empty. She had already left the room. For the first time
it had been impossible to sleep even a few short moments, and when she
heard from the neighbouring cloister the ringing of the little bell that
summoned the nuns to prayers, she could stay in bed no longer.

Usually she liked to dress slowly, thinking meanwhile of many things
which stirred her soul. Sometimes while the maid or Els braided her hair
she could read a book of devotion which the abbess had given her. But
this morning she had carried the clothes she needed into the next room
on tiptoe, that she might not wake her sister, and urged Katterle, who
helped her dress, to hurry.

She longed to see her aunt at the convent. While kneeling at the
prie-dieu, she had reached the certainty that her patron saint had led
Heinz Schorlin to her. He was her knight and she his lady, so he must
render her obedience, and she would use it to estrange him from the
vanity of the world and make him a champion of the holy cause of the
Church of Christ, the victorious conqueror of her foes. Sky-blue, the
Holy Virgin's colour, should be hers, and thus his also, and every
victory gained by the knight with the sky-blue on his helmet, under St.
Clare's protection, would then be hers.

Heinz Schorlin was already one of the boldest and strongest knights; her
love must render him also one of the most godly. Yes, her love! If St.
Francis had not disdained to make a wolf his brother, why might sh