olland, near Dordrecht, about the fifteenth century.

Composer: Meyerbeer.
Author: Scribe.

ACT I

One beautiful day about four hundred years ago the sun rose upon a
castle on the Meuse, where lived the Count Oberthal, known in Holland
as Lord of the Manor. It was a fine sight with its drawbridge and its
towers, its mills and outbuildings, with antique tables outside the
great entrance, sacks of grain piled high, telling of industry and
plenty. In the early day peasants arrived with their grain sacks,
called for entrance, and the doors were opened to them; other men with
grain to be milled came and went, and the scene presented a lively
appearance.

Sheep-bells were heard in the meadows, the breezes blew softly, and
men and women went singing gaily about their work. Among them was a
young girl, more beautiful than the others, and her heart was
specially full of hope. She was beloved of an innkeeper, John, who
lived in a neighbouring village. He was prosperous and good, and she
thought of him while she worked. She longed to be his wife, but John
had an old mother who was mistress of the inn--in fact, the inn was
hers--and it had been a question how they should arrange their
affairs. John was too poor to go away and make a separate home, and
the old mother might not care to have a daughter-in-law take her place
as mistress there, carrying on the business while the active old woman
sat idly by.

Upon that beautiful day, Bertha was thinking of all of these things,
and hoping something would happen to change the situation. Even while
she was thinking thus fate had a pleasant surprise in store for her,
because the old mother, Faith, was at that very moment approaching the
manor where Bertha lived. Like others of her class she owed vassalage
to some petty seigneur, and while that meant oppression to be
endured, it included the advantage of safety and protection in time of
war.

Bertha, looking off over the country road, saw Faith, John's mother,
coming. Her step was firm for one so aged, and she was upheld on her
long journey by the goodness of her mission. When Bertha saw her she
ran to meet and welcome her.

"Sit down," she cried, guiding the old woman's steps to a seat, and
hovering over her. "I have watched for your coming since the
morning--even since sunrise," the young woman said, fluttering about
happily. "I was certain thou wert coming."

"Yes, yes. John said: 'Go, go, mother, and bring Bertha home to me