ht, as seated in an easy settle
by the fire, the tonsor rid his chin of its stubby growth, and
lightly passed the tongs and pomatum through "the sable silver" of his
hair,--"By Saint Bugo, this is better than my dungeon at Grand Cairo.
How is my godson Otto, master barber; and the lady countess, his mother;
and the noble Count Karl, my dear brother-in-arms?"

"They are well," said the tonsor, with a sigh.

"By Saint Bugo, I'm glad on't; but why that sigh?"

"Things are not as they have been with my good lord," answered the
hairdresser, "ever since Count Gottfried's arrival."

"He here!" roared Sir Ludwig. "Good never came where Gottfried was!"
and the while he donned a pair of silken hose, that showed admirably the
proportions of his lower limbs, and exchanged his coat of mail for the
spotless vest and black surcoat collared with velvet of Genoa, which was
the fitting costume for "knight in ladye's bower," the knight entered
into a conversation with the barber, who explained to him, with the
usual garrulousness of his tribe, what was the present position of the
noble family of Godesberg.

This will be narrated in the next chapter.

CHAPTER II.

THE GODESBERGERS.

'Tis needless to state that the gallant warrior Ludwig of Hombourg
found in the bosom of his friend's family a cordial welcome. The
brother-in-arms of the Margrave Karl, he was the esteemed friend of the
Margravine, the exalted and beautiful Theodora of Boppum, and (albeit no
theologian, and although the first princes of Christendom coveted such
an honor,) he was selected to stand as sponsor for the Margrave's son
Otto, the only child of his house.

It was now seventeen years since the Count and Countess had been united:
and although heaven had not blessed their couch with more than one
child, it may be said of that one that it was a prize, and that surely
never lighted on the earth a more delightful vision. When Count Ludwig,
hastening to the holy wars, had quitted his beloved godchild, he had
left him a boy; he now found him, as the latter rushed into his arms,
grown to be one of the finest young men in Germany: tall and excessively
graceful in proportion, with the blush of health mantling upon his
cheek, that was likewise adorned with the first down of manhood, and
with magnificent golden ringlets, such as a Rowland might envy, curling
over his brow and his shoulders. His eyes alternately beamed with the
fire of daring, or melted with the mois