he Forest Cantons, and now the thoughts of men were
turned in other directions, while the Swiss peasants were quietly
allowed to reap the fruits of their bravery. The most sanguine found
it difficult to cheer the drooping maiden of Castle Rheinfels.

Then one day her former wooer, the mean avaricious Dietrich of Berg,
presented himself. It was certain that George Broemser must be dead,
and he was come again to sue for the hand of so desirable a young
lady. The dejected maiden informed her eager wooer that she had
plighted her troth to her absent lover beside the linden-tree
flourishing in front of the castle. Only when this tree, consecrated
to St. George, should fade would she be released from her promise. The
knight of Berg departed in anger, and immediately betook himself to a
wood and there selected a decayed linden, as similar as possible to
the green one growing before Castle Rheinfels. In the night he
cautiously approached the castle, tore up the linden, flung it with a
curse into the Rhine, and then planted in its place the withered
sapling. Next morning, a morning bright with the promise of spring,
the fair daughter of Rheinfels stepped out on the lawn. A cry of pain
escaped her lips when she perceived the faded tree. The days and weeks
that followed were spent in deep grief. After a suitable time had
elapsed, the knight of Berg again put in an appearance at Rheinfels,
mightily pleased with himself. Again he sought the hand of the maiden
now released from her solemn promise. Sadly, but firmly however she
told her importunate wooer that she would keep troth with her lover in
death as in life. Then the wrath of the despised knight drove him to
commit a horrible deed. In his savage anger he drew his sword and
buried it in the maiden's breast. Fleeing from the scene of his
dreadful crime he was suddenly seized with remorse, and like Our
Lord's avaricious disciple, he went and hanged himself. Deep was the
sorrow in Castle Rheinfels over the sacrifice of this innocent young
bride, who had kept her troth so nobly. But grief and tears could not
replace the lost one. In the midst of the mourning a stranger was
announced. He came from the Swiss land.

After the battle of Morgarten a brave Swiss had found George Broemser
with broken limbs and many bleeding wounds amongst a heap of slain. In
a peasant's hut the wounded man lay long in pain and weakness. His
broken limbs required long and patient attention. Finally, after