said sternly, "go join the ladies: it becomes not a
young boy to remain in the company of gallant knights after dinner."
The noble Childe with manifest unwillingness quitted the room, and the
Margrave, taking his lady's place at the head of the table, whispered
to Sir Ludwig, "Hildebrandt will be here to-night to an evening-party,
given in honor of your return from Palestine. My good friend--my true
friend--my old companion in arms, Sir Gottfried! you had best see that
the fiddlers be not drunk, and that the crumpets be gotten ready." Sir
Gottfried, obsequiously taking his patron's hint, bowed and left the
room.

"You shall know all soon, dear Ludwig," said the Margrave, with a
heart-rending look. "You marked Gottfried, who left the room anon?"

"I did."

"You look incredulous concerning his worth; but I tell thee, Ludwig,
that yonder Gottfried is a good fellow, and my fast friend. Why should
he not be! He is my near relation, heir to my property: should I" (here
the Margrave's countenance assumed its former expression of excruciating
agony),--"SHOULD I HAVE NO SON."

"But I never saw the boy in better health," replied Sir Ludwig.

"Nevertheless,--ha! ha!--it may chance that I shall soon have no son."

The Margrave had crushed many a cup of wine during dinner, and Sir
Ludwig thought naturally that his gallant friend had drunken rather
deeply. He proceeded in this respect to imitate him; for the stern
soldier of those days neither shrunk before the Paynim nor the
punch-bowl: and many a rousing night had our crusader enjoyed in Syria
with lion-hearted Richard; with his coadjutor, Godfrey of Bouillon; nay,
with the dauntless Saladin himself.

"You knew Gottfried in Palestine?" asked the Margrave.

"I did."

"Why did ye not greet him then, as ancient comrades should, with the
warm grasp of friendship? It is not because Sir Gottfried is poor? You
know well that he is of race as noble as thine own, my early friend!"

"I care not for his race nor for his poverty," replied the blunt
crusader. "What says the Minnesinger? 'Marry, that the rank is but the
stamp of the guinea; the man is the gold.' And I tell thee, Karl of
Godesberg, that yonder Gottfried is base metal."

"By Saint Buffo, thou beliest him, dear Ludwig."

"By Saint Bugo, dear Karl, I say sooth. The fellow was known i' the camp
of the crusaders--disreputably known. Ere he joined us in Palestine, he
had sojourned in Constantinople, and learned the arts