servants anxiously
seeking lodgings for their masters. At every moment coaches drew up in
the courtyard of the small hostelry and companies of fine gentlemen rode
in. Every one demanded accommodation, and quarrels and protestations
filled the air. In the streets hawkers called their wares, ribbons,
laces, patches. A strolling vender of reputed wonder-working balsams and
philtres attracted a laughing crowd; itinerant musicians arrived on the
scene and added the strains of stringed instruments and the choruses of
gay songs to the general clamour. Urach, the quiet hill-town, where many
quaint fountains murmur ceaselessly, seemed turned into a place of
carnival. Near the castle gate the crowd of peasants and burghers was
dense, every one inquisitive to catch a glimpse of the gay doings within,
but the sentries kept the people back and only the foremost watchers
could see the interior of the courtyard. Here too was festive bustle, for
his Highness sat at the grand banquet in the tilting-hall, and
serving-men ran hurriedly across the courtyard bearing steaming viands
from the kitchen or laden with platters of delicious cakes. The Duke's
Cellar-master appeared in the gateway and, addressing the expectant mob,
shouted the welcome statement that his Highness desired his friends of
Urach to drink to his health. Barrels of wine were rolled across to the
castle gate and the onlookers served with copious draughts. Then the
Cellar-master called for silence, and, striking an attitude, he spoke:

'His Highness prays you to drink long life and happiness to his noble
bride, the Countess of Urach. Come--Hoch! and again--Hoch!'

'Bride, indeed!' roared the crowd; 'harlot, you mean!' some said, but
they drank greedily all the same.

Wilhelmine was waiting in the Golden Hall, and through the open casement
she heard the comments of the rabble. 'Harlot, adulteress, witch,' she
repeated slowly, as she listened to these epithets used by the men while
they drank her health. She raged. 'Ah, you canaille!' she whispered, 'it
was _I_ ordered you that good red wine! Blood I will give you to drink
another time, blood to choke you.' She drew back from her place near the
window. 'But your hatred shall not mar my triumph to-night. God's curse
on you, my husband's people!'

The Golden Hall was decked in white flowers, and at one end of the large
room, twined and garlanded with roses, a dais had been raised, and two
huge gilt chairs, the only ones in th