ymph and
marrying again. So he performed the penances prescribed by the priest,
and allowed the wedding preparations to proceed.

When the day of his wedding arrived, however, he was strangely perturbed
and pale. The rejoicings of the people, the gay processions, even the
beautiful bride, seemed to have no interest for him. When the hand of
the lady was placed in his he could not repress an exclamation; it was
cold to the touch like the hand of a corpse.

On returning the wedding procession was obliged to cross a bridge, and
as they approached it a great storm arose so that the waters of the
stream washed over the feet of the bridegroom's horse, making it prance
and rear. The knight was stricken with deadly terror, for he knew that
the doom of which the water-nymph had spoken was about to overtake him.
Without a word he plunged into the torrent and was nevermore seen.

At the very hour of this tragedy a great storm raged round the castle of
Staufenberg, and when it abated the mother and child had disappeared for
ever. Yet even now on a stormy night she can still be heard among the
tree-tops weeping passionately, and the sound is accompanied by the
whimpering of a child.

Trifels and Richard Coeur-de-Lion

As a troop of horsemen rode through Annweiler toward the castle of
Trifels, in which Richard Coeur-de-Lion was imprisoned by the Archduke
of Austria, his deadly enemy, the plaintive notes of a familiar lay fell
on their ears. The singer was a young shepherd, and one of the knights,
a troubadour, asked him to repeat his ditty. The youth complied, and
the knight accompanied him as he sang, their voices blending tunefully
together.

Giving him generous largess, the knight asked the minstrel who had
taught him that song. The shepherd replied that he had heard it sung in
the castle of Trifels. At this intelligence the stranger appeared highly
gratified, and, turning to his companions, ejaculated: "The King is
found!"

It was evident to the shepherd that the new-comers were friends of
Richard, and he warned them earnestly that danger lay before them. Only
by guile could they hope to succour their King. The warning was heeded,
and the tuneful knight rode forward alone, disguised in a minstrel's
tunic, in which he was welcomed at the castle. His courtly bearing soon
won him the favour of the castellan's pretty niece, who persuaded her
uncle to listen to his songs. During one of their stolen interviews the
girl betraye