outlaws they craved shelter and protection
for the night. At the sound of one of the voices the knight started
up, listening eagerly, and when the stranger raised his visor and
threw back his mantle, Wolf of Hammerstein sank on his knees at the
stranger's feet, and seizing his hand he pressed it to his lips,
exclaiming: "Henry, my lord and king!" Then, with trembling voice the
Emperor told his old comrade-in-arms that he was a fugitive, and
before one who had torn from him the imperial crown and mantle. And
when the old knight, trembling with excitement, demanded who this
impious and dishonourable man might be, the Emperor murmured the
words, "My son," and then buried his face in his hands.

Rigid as a marble statue stood the old knight. Like a bolt from
heaven the consciousness of his past ignoble conduct had flashed upon
him. Suddenly he seemed to feel how tenderly the loving arms of his
daughters had enfolded him. He spread out his hands towards them, as
if anxious to atone by the tenderness of a minute for the harshness of
years. Then the Emperor, deeply touched, thus addressed the old man.
"Dear comrade-in-arms, your position is indeed enviable. The faithful
love of your daughters will tend you in your declining years. No
misguided son, impatient for your end, will hunt you from your home.
Alas, for me, to-morrow accompanied by a few faithful followers, I
must go down to battle against my own flesh and blood."

Towards midnight the unhappy monarch was conducted to a room prepared
with care for his reception; and, while he sank into a troubled sleep,
the old knight overwhelmed his daughters with long-delayed caresses.
In his heart, he silently entreated for pardon for the deep grudge he
had long cherished against the God who had been pleased to grant him
no son.

* * * * *

Three months had passed by. Sad news came to the Rhine from the
Netherlands. The Emperor Henry was dead. In the midst of fresh warlike
preparations death claimed him. His faithful partisans were therefore
greatly grieved and more especially Wolf of Hammerstein. But the
second part of the tidings made him even sadder. The consecrated earth
was denied to the unfortunate dead Emperor. His coffin was placed in a
cellar in Liege without any respect. Whoever wished could go there to
slander or to pray for the repose of his soul, whenever they desired.
When the knight was told of this he swore vehemently and did not c