, and the fight commenced. Isentrude saw the sparks fly, and
the steel struck till it was shattered; but they fought on, not caring
for wounds, and snorting with fury as they grew hotter. They fought a
whole hour. The poor girl was so eaten up with looking on, that she let
go the curtain and stood quite exposed among them. So, to steady herself,
she rested her hand on the bed-side; and--think what she felt--a hand as
cold as ice locked hers, and get from it she could not! That instant one
of the princes fell. It was Bohmen. Bayern sheathed his sword, and waved
his hand, and the attendants took up the slaughtered ghost, feet and
shoulders, and bore him to the door of the secret passage, while Bayern
strode after--'

'Shameful!' exclaimed Margarita. 'I will speak to Berthold as he
descends. I hear him coming. He shall do what I wish.'

'Call it dreadful, Grete! Dreadful it was. If Berthold would like to sit
and hear--Ah! she is gone. A good girl! and of a levity only on the
surface.'

Aunt Lisbeth heard Margarita's voice rapidly addressing Berthold. His
reply was low and brief. 'Refuses to listen to anything of the sort,'
Aunt Lisbeth interpreted it. Then he seemed to be pleading, and Margarita
uttering short answers. 'I trust 'tis nothing a maiden should not hear,'
the little lady exclaimed with a sigh.

The door opened, and Lieschen stood at the entrance.

'For Fraulein Margarita,' she said, holding a letter halfway out.

'Give it,' Aunt Lisbeth commanded.

The woman hesitated--''Tis for the Fraulein.'

'Give it, I tell thee!' and Aunt Lisbeth eagerly seized the missive, and
subjected it to the ordeal of touch. It was heavy, and contained
something hard. Long pensive pressures revealed its shape on the paper.
It was an arrow. 'Go!' said she to the woman, and, once alone, began,
bee-like, to buzz all over it, and finally entered. It contained
Margarita's Silver Arrow. 'The art of that girl!' And the writing said:

'SWEETEST MAIDEN!

'By this arrow of our betrothal, I conjure thee to meet me in all
haste without the western gate, where, burning to reveal to thee
most urgent tidings that may not be confided to paper, now waits,
petitioning the saints, thy

'FARINA.'

Aunt Lisbeth placed letter and arrow in a drawer; locked it; and 'always
thought so.' She ascended the stairs to consult with Gottlieb. Roars of
laughter greeted her just as she lifted the latch, and she retreat