It first ran "Count
Ludwig de Hombourg, Jerusalem;" but the name of the Holy City had been
dashed out with the pen, and that of "Godesberg" substituted. So far
indeed had the cavalier travelled!--and it is needless to state that the
bag in question contained such remaining articles of the toilet as the
high-born noble deemed unnecessary to place in his valise.

"By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen!" said the good knight, shivering,
"'tis colder here than at Damascus! Marry, I am so hungry I could eat
one of Saladin's camels. Shall I be at Godesberg in time for dinner?"
And taking out his horologe (which hung in a small side-pocket of his
embroidered surcoat), the crusader consoled himself by finding that it
was but seven of the night, and that he would reach Godesberg ere the
warder had sounded the second gong.

His opinion was borne out by the result. His good steed, which could
trot at a pinch fourteen leagues in the hour, brought him to this famous
castle, just as the warder was giving the first welcome signal which
told that the princely family of Count Karl, Margrave of Godesberg,
were about to prepare for their usual repast at eight o'clock. Crowds
of pages and horse-keepers were in the court, when, the portcullis being
raised, and amidst the respectful salutes of the sentinels, the most
ancient friend of the house of Godesberg entered into its castle-yard.
The under-butler stepped forward to take his bridle-rein. "Welcome, Sir
Count, from the Holy Land!" exclaimed the faithful old man. "Welcome,
Sir Count, from the Holy Land!" cried the rest of the servants in the
hall. A stable was speedily found for the Count's horse, Streithengst,
and it was not before the gallant soldier had seen that true animal well
cared for, that he entered the castle itself, and was conducted to his
chamber. Wax-candles burning bright on the mantel, flowers in china
vases, every variety of soap, and a flask of the precious essence
manufactured at the neighboring city of Cologne, were displayed on his
toilet-table; a cheering fire "crackled on the hearth," and showed
that the good knight's coming had been looked and cared for. The
serving-maidens, bringing him hot water for his ablutions, smiling
asked, "Would he have his couch warmed at eve?" One might have been sure
from their blushes that the tough old soldier made an arch reply. The
family tonsor came to know whether the noble Count had need of his
skill. "By Saint Bugo," said the knig