retired to rest.

CHAPTER VII.

As like a spirit of the air
She hangs upon his neck,
In falt'ring tones the lovely fair
At last essays to speak;
"And wilt thou, then, thy true love leave
For ever?"--thus the fair
Began, when, overcome by grief,
Her words are lost in air.
SCHUBART.

Albert was sitting in his room, in the forenoon of the day after the
ball, thoughtful and dejected. He had paid a visit to his friend
Breitenstein, from whom he heard little that was consoling to his
hopes. A council of war had been assembled early in the morning, and
war was irrevocably decided upon. Twelve pages were despatched through
the Goecklinger gate to convey the declarations of defiance of the Duke
of Bavaria, the nobility, and assembled states, to the Wuertembergers at
Blaubeuren. This news was speedily spread from mouth to mouth through
the streets, and joy at the prospect of marching at last into the
field, was visibly depicted on every countenance. To one alone was the
announcement a terrible blow. Grief drove him from the circle of the
joyous multitude, who adjourned to the wine shops, to celebrate, by
loud carousal, the birthday of the war, and to cast lots for the booty
of anticipated victory. Ah! his lot was already cast! A bloody field of
battle was spread between him and his beloved; she was lost to him for
a length of time, perhaps for ever.

Hurried steps ascending the staircase, roused him out of his melancholy
mood. His friend the scribe put his head in at the door, crying out,
"Good luck, my boy! the dance is about to commence in good earnest.
Have you heard the news? war is announced, and our messengers have been
despatched an hour ago, with the declaration to the enemy."

"I know that already," said his gloomy guest.

"Well, and does not your heart jump more freely? Have you also
heard--no, you could not," continued Dieterich, as he approached him in
confidence--"the Swiss have withdrawn their aid from the Duke."

"How? Have they deserted him?" replied Albert. "Well, then, I suppose
that will put an end to the war."

"I would not be quite certain of that," said the scribe, doubtfully.
"The Duke of Wuertemberg is young and bold, and has many knights and
followers at his command. He will not, indeed, run the risk of fighting
a ba