rnful bellow that it
touched me to the heart. My eyes rested on the calf, and a voice within
whispered that it would be motherless, like me, and miss during the
first part of its life God's best gift. But since, as you have heard,
I act before I think, I went myself--I no longer know how--into the
burning stable. It was hard to breathe in the dense smoke, and fiery
sparks scorched my shawl and my hair, but I was conscious of one
thought: You must save the helpless little creature's mother! So I
called and lured her, as I do at home, where all the cows are fond of
me, but it was useless; and just as I perceived this the thatched roof
fell in, and I should probably have perished had not Altrosen this time
carried my own by no means light figure out of the stable instead of the
calf."

"And you?" asked Els eagerly.

"I submitted," replied the countess.

"No, no," urged Els. "Your heart throbbed faster with grateful joy,
for you saw the desire of your soul fulfilled. A hunter, and one of
the noblest of them all, risked his life in the pursuit of your love.
O Countess Cordula, I remember that knight well, and if the dark-blue
sleeve which he wore on his helm in the tournament was yours--"

"I believe it was," Cordula interrupted indifferently. "But, what was
of more importance, when I opened my eyes again the cow was standing
outside, licking her recovered calf."

"And the knight?" asked Els. "Whoever so heroically risks his life for
his lady's wish should be sure of her gratitude."

"Boemund can rely on that," said Cordula positively. "At least, what
he did this time for my sake weighs more heavily in the scale than
the lances he has broken, his love songs, or the mute language of
his longing eyes. Those are shafts which do not pierce my heart. How
reproachfully you look at me! Let him take lessons from his friend Heinz
Schorlin, and he may improve. Yes, the Swiss knight! He would be the
man for me, spite of your involuntary meeting with him and your devout
sister, for whom he forgot every one else, and me also, in the dancing
hall. O Jungfrau Els, I have the hunter's eyes, which are keen-sighted!
For his sake your beautiful Eva, with her saintly gaze, might easily
forget to pray. It was not you, but she, who drew him to-night to your
house. Had this thought entered my head downstairs in the entry I
should probably, to be honest, have omitted my little fairy tale and let
matters take their course. St. Clare ought to