rgarita sat down before Siegfried, and contemplated the hero. For the
first time, she marked a resemblance in his features to Farina: the same
long yellow hair scattered over his shoulders as that flowing from under
Siegfried's helm; the blue eyes, square brows, and regular outlines.
'This is a marvel,' thought Margarita. 'And Farina! it was to watch
over me that he roamed the street last night, my best one! Is he not
beautiful?' and she looked closer at Siegfried.

Aunt Lisbeth had begun upon the dragon with her usual method, and was
soon wandering through skeleton halls of the old palatial castle in
Bohemia. The woolly tongue of the monster suggested fresh horrors to
her, and if Margarita had listened, she might have had fair excuses
to forget her lover's condition; but her voice only did service like a
piece of clock-work, and her mind was in the prison with Farina. She
was long debating how to win his release; and meditated so deeply, and
exclaimed in so many bursts of impatience, that Aunt Lisbeth found her
heart melting to the maiden. 'Now,' said she, 'that is a well-known
story about the Electress Dowager of Bavaria, when she came on a visit
to the castle; and, my dear child, be it a warning. Terrible, too!' and
the little woman shivered pleasantly. 'She had--I may tell you
this, Margarita--yes, she had been false to her wedded husband.--You
understand, maiden; or, no! you do not understand: I understand it only
partly, mind. False, I say----'

'False--not true: go on, dear aunty,' said Margarita, catching the word.

'I believe she knows as much as I do!' ejaculated Aunt Lisbeth; 'such
are girls nowadays. When I was young-oh! for a maiden to know anything
then--oh! it was general reprobation. No one thought of confessing it.
We blushed and held down our eyes at the very idea. Well, the Electress!
she was--you must guess. So she called for her caudle at eleven o'clock
at night. What do you think that was? Well, there was spirit in it: not
to say nutmeg, and lemon, and peach kernels. She wanted me to sit with
her, but I begged my mistress to keep me from the naughty woman: and no
friend of Hilda of Bayern was Bertha of Bohmen, you may be sure. Oh! the
things she talked while she was drinking her caudle.

Isentrude sat with her,'and said it was fearful!--beyond blasphemy! and
that she looked like a Bible witch, sitting up drinking and swearing
and glaring in her nightclothes and nightcap. She was on a journey into