s younger son's passionate love. Henry, too, was not
unaware of the happiness of this pair, and in generous self-denial he
tried to bury his grief, and to rejoice heartily in his brother's
success.

The distress of the elder brother did not escape Angela. She was much
moved when she first remarked that his voice trembled on pronouncing
her name, but soon love dazzled her eyes, so that the clouds on his
troubled countenance passed unnoticed by her.

About this time St. Bernhard of Clairvaux came from France to the
Rhine, preaching a second crusade against the Infidels. The fiery
words of the saintly monk roused many thousands to action; his appeal
likewise reached the castle of Sternberg.

Henry, though not envying his brother's happiness, felt that it would
be impossible for him to be a constant witness of it, and thus he was
glad to answer this call, and to take up the cross.

Conrad, too, longing for action and dominated by the impulse of the
moment, was stirred up by the witching charms which a crusade to
Palestine offered. His adventurous soul, cramped up in this castle so
far removed from the world, thirsted for the adventures, which he
imagined were awaiting the crusaders in the far-off East. In vain the
tears and prayers of the young girl were shed, in vain was the sorrow
of his father who begged him not to desert him.

The old man was in despair about the unbending resolutions of his
sons.

"Who will remain at the castle of my forefathers, if you both abandon
it now, perhaps never to return," cried he sorrowfully. "I implore
you, my eldest son, you, the very image of your mother, to have pity
on your father's gray hairs. And you, Conrad, have pity on the tears
of your betrothed." The brothers remained silent. Then the eldest
grasped the old man's hand, saying gently.

"I shall not leave you, my father."

"And you, Angela," said the younger to the weeping maiden, "you will
try and bear this separation, and will plant a sprig of laurel to make
a wreath for me when I return."

II.

The next day the young knight left the home of his forefathers. At
first the maiden seemed inconsolable in her grief. But soon her love
began to slumber like a tired child; on awakening from this
drowsiness indignation seized her, whispering complainingly in her
ear, and disturbing all the sweet memories in which the picture of her
light-hearted lover gleamed forth, he who had parted from her for the
sake of empty glory.