River. The emperor wished to put an end to their
dissensions by allying them to each other by marriages. Thus the
daughter of the Count of Ludschou had married the son of the old Count
of Webo. But this did not much improve matters. The old Count of Webo
had lung trouble, and when the hot season came it always grew worse,
and he would say: "Yes, if I only had Ludschou! It is cooler and I
might feel better there!"

So he gathered three thousand warriors around him, gave them good pay,
questioned the oracle with regard to a lucky day, and set out to take
Ludschou by force.

The Count of Ludschou heard of it. He worried day and night, but could
see no way out of his difficulties. One night, when the water-clock
had already been set up, and the gate of the camp had been locked, he
walked about the courtyard, leaning on his staff. Only his slave-girl
followed him.

"Lord," said she, "it is now more than a month since sleep and
appetite have abandoned you! You live sad and lonely, wrapped up in
your grief. Unless I am greatly deceived it is on account of Webo."

"It is a matter of life and death," answered the count, "of which you
women understand nothing."

"I am no more than a slave-girl," said she, "and yet I have been able
to guess the cause of your grief."

The count realized that there was meaning in her words and replied:
"You are in truth an extraordinary girl. It is a fact that I am
quietly reflecting on some way of escape."

The slave-girl said: "That is easily done! You need not give it a
thought, master! I will go to Webo and see how things are. This is the
first watch of the night. If I go now, I can be back by the fifth
watch."

"Should you not succeed," said the count, "you merely bring misfortune
upon me the more quickly."

"A failure is out of the question," answered the slave-girl.

Then she went to her room and prepared for her journey. She combed her
raven hair, tied it in a knot on the top of her head, and fastened it
with a golden pin. Then she put on a short garment embroidered with
purple, and shoes woven of dark silk. In her breast she hid a dagger
with dragon-lines graved on it, and upon her forehead she wrote the
name of the Great God. Then she bowed before the count and
disappeared.

The count poured wine for himself and waited for her, and when the
morning horn was blown, the slave-girl floated down before him as
light as a leaf.

"Did all go well?" asked the count.

"I have do