such an unseasonable hour. The maid replied that
she had once dwelt in just such a pleasant and peaceful cell as that in
which she now reposed, but that cruel persecution had driven her from
her retreat.

"Then you, too, are a hermit?" said the young monk inquiringly, looking
down at his fair guest. The wine had brought some colour to her pale
cheeks and he could see that she was beautiful, with a beauty beyond
that of any maiden he had ever seen.

"Yes," she replied, "I am a priestess of Herthe. This cell in which I
beg for shelter was once my own. It was those of your religion who drove
me from it."

"You are not a Christian?" asked the monk, startled in spite of himself
by the passionate tones in which she spoke.

The maiden laughed.

"Am I not as beautiful as your Christian maids?" said she. "Am I not
human even as they are?" She moved about the cell as she spoke, and
picked up a piece of embroidery. "See, this is my handiwork; is it
less beautiful because it is not the work of a Christian? Why should we
suffer persecution at your hands?"

The young monk endeavoured to show that she was unjust in her estimate
of his religion. Gravely he told her the story of Christianity, but his
thoughts were of her weird beauty and he spake less earnestly than was
usual. And the maid, with an appearance of child-like innocence, waited
until he had finished his recital. She saw that she had him completely
in her power and pressed her advantage to the uttermost. She drew
closer to him, raised his hand, and pressed it to her lips. The monk
surrendered himself to her caresses, and when at length she begged
him to break the symbol of his religion he was too much fascinated to
refuse. He raised the cross and would have dashed it to the ground, but
at that very moment he heard high above the storm the sound of a bell.
Contrite and ashamed, he fell on his knees and prayed for pardon. When
he looked up again the girl had disappeared.

The hermit found the warning bell suspended on a bough outside his cell;
how it came there he never knew, but he was sure that it had been sent
to rescue him from the wiles of Satan and he treasured it as a sacred
relic. Many came from far and near to see the wonder, and on the site
of the cell the monk founded a chapel which became known as the
Klingelkapelle, or 'Tinkling-chapel.'

The Wafer-Nymph of Staufenberg

A charming story is linked with the castle of Staufenberg. One day while
its owner