s of
Giromani and Haut Barr, the castles of Geroldseck, Teufelshorn, and
others. Hugh Lupus had no issue by his first wife, who died young, in the
year of our Lord 837. Then Hugh, having become lord and owner of the
dowry, refused to give it up, and there were terrible battles between
himself and his brothers-in-law. But his second wife, Huldine, whom you
see there in a steel breastplate, aided him by her sage counsel. It is
unknown whence or of what family she came, but for all that she saved
Hugh's life, who had been made prisoner by Frantz of Lutzelbourg. He was
to have been hanged that very day, and a gibbet had already been set up
on the ramparts, when Huldine, at the head of her husband's vassals, whom
she had armed and inspired with her own courage, bravely broke in,
released Hugh, and hung Frantz in his place. Hugh had married his wife
in 842, and had three children by her."

"So," I resumed pensively, "the first of these wives was called Hedwige,
and the descendants of Nideck are not related to her?"

"Not at all."

"Are you quite sure?"

"I can show you our genealogical tree; Hedwige had no children; Huldine,
the second wife, had three."

"That is surprising to me."

"Why so?"

"I thought I traced a resemblance."

"Oho! resemblance! Rubbish!" cried Knapwurst with a discordant laugh.
"See--look at this wooden snuff-box; in it you see a portrait of my
great-grandfather, Hanswurst. His nose is as long and as pointed as an
extinguisher, and his jaws like nutcrackers. How does that affect his
being the grandfather of me--of a man with finely-formed features and an
agreeable mouth?"

"Oh no!--of course not."

"Well, so it is with the Nidecks. They may some of them be like Hedwige,
but for all that Huldine is the head of their ancestry. See the
genealogical tree. Now, sir, are you satisfied?"

Then we separated--Knapwurst and I--excellent friends.

CHAPTER V.

"Nevertheless," thought I, "there is the likeness. It is not chance. What
is chance? There is no such thing; it is nonsense to talk of chance. It
must be something higher!"

I was following my friend Sperver, deep in thought, who had now resumed
his walk down the corridor. The portrait of Hedwige, in all its artless
simplicity, mingled in my mind with the face of Odile.

Suddenly Gideon stopped, and, raising my eyes, I saw that we were
standing before the count's door.

"Come in, Fritz," he said, "and I will give the dogs a feed. W