plunged
into the thickest of the battle; the steed neighed; the trump sounded;
and you might have heard the ringing of the steel. But when he came
to signalize the names of the boldest knights, high among the loftiest
sounded the name of Sir Warbeck of Liebenstein. Thrice had he saved the
imperial banner; two chargers slain beneath him, he had covered their
bodies with the fiercest of the foe.

Gentle in the tent and terrible in the fray, the minstrel should forget
his craft ere the Rhine should forget its hero. The chief started from
his seat. Leoline clasped the minstrel's hand.

"Speak,--you have seen him, he lives, he is honoured?"

"I myself am but just from Palestine, brave chief and noble maiden. I
saw the gallant knight of Liebenstein at the right hand of the imperial
Conrad. And he, ladye, was the only knight whom admiration shone upon
without envy, its shadow. Who then," continued the minstrel, once more
striking his harp, "who then would remain inglorious in the hall? Shall
not the banners of his sires reproach him as they wave; and shall not
every voice from Palestine strike shame into his soul?"

"Right!" cried Otho, suddenly, and flinging himself at the feet of his
father. "Thou hearest what my brother has done, and thine aged eyes weep
tears of joy. Shall I only dishonour thine old age with a rusted sword?
No! grant me, like my brother, to go forth with the heroes of the
Cross!"

"Noble youth," cried the harper, "therein speaks the soul of Sir
Warbeck; hear him, sir, knight,--hear the noble youth."

"Heaven cries aloud in his voice," said the Templar, solemnly.

"My son, I cannot chide thine ardour," said the old chief, raising him
with trembling hands; "but Leoline, thy betrothed?"

Pale as a statue, with ears that doubted their sense as they drank in
the cruel words of her lover, stood the orphan. She did not speak, she
scarcely breathed; she sank into her seat, and gazed upon the ground,
till, at the speech of the chief both maiden pride and maiden tenderness
restored her consciousness, and she said,--

"_I_, uncle! Shall _I_ bid Otho stay when his wishes bid him depart?"

"He will return to thee, noble ladye, covered with glory," said the
harper: but Otho said no more. The touching voice of Leoline went to
his soul; he resumed his seat in silence; and Leoline, going up to
him, whispered gently, "Act as though I were not;" and left the hall to
commune with her heart and to weep alone.

"I