rd duke desired to hear more music made, we were
ready enough to obey and uplifted our voices, while he leaned on an easy
couch, listening diligently, and gave us the guerdon of his gracious
praise.

Still, as heretofore, many were obedient to Ann's lightest sign, but
never till now had I seen her proud of her power and so eager to use it.
Now and again she would turn to Herdegen with some light word and a free
demeanor, yet he, it was plain, would not vouchsafe to take his seat
before her with the rest.

Nay, meseemed that he and Ursula had no part with us; inasmuch as that
she was arrayed in velvet and rich brocade, and a bower, as it were, of
yellow and purple ostrich plumes curled above her riding-hat.

Herdegen likewise was in brave array, after the fashion of the French,
and a bunch of tall feathers stood up above his head, being held in a
silken fillet that bound his hair. His cross-belt was set with gems and
hung with little bells, tinkling as he moved and jarring with our song;
and in this hot summer-tide it could not have been for his easement that
he wore the tagged lappets, which fell, a hand-breadth deep, from his
shoulders over the sleeves of his velvet tunic.

The more gleefully we sang and the more it was made plain that we, to
all seeming, were only to obey the wishes of Ann and of his highness
the duke, the less could my brother refrain himself to hide his
ill-pleasure; and when presently the Junker besought Ann that she would
sing "Tanderadei," which she very readily did, Herdegen could bear no
more; he asked the Italian to lend him his mandoline, and struck the
strings as though merely for his own good pleasure. Whereupon Ann turned
to him and courteously entreated him for a song, and he asking her which
song she would have, she hastily replied: "Your old ditties are already
known to me, Junker Schopper; and, to judge by your seeming, you now
take no pleasure save in French music. Let us then hear somewhat of the
latest Paris fashion."

To this he replied, however: "Here, in my own land, I would like better
to sing in my own tongue, by your gracious leave, fair mistress."

Then bowing to Ursula and to me, without even casting a glance at Ann,
he went on to say: "And seeing that methinks you love madrigals, I will
sing a Franconian ditty after the Junker's Brandenburg ballad."

He boldly struck the strings, and the little birds, which by this time
had gone to rest in the linden-tree, again upli