It was, in fact, the gallant knight Sir
Ludwig of Hombourg: his rank as a count, and chamberlain of the Emperor
of Austria, was marked by the cap of maintenance with the peacock's
feather which he wore (when not armed for battle), and his princely
blood was denoted by the oiled silk umbrella which he carried (a very
meet protection against the pitiless storm), and which, as it is known,
in the middle ages, none but princes were justified in using. A bag,
fastened with a brazen padlock, and made of the costly produce of
the Persian looms (then extremely rare in Europe), told that he had
travelled in Eastern climes. This, too, was evident from the inscription
writ on card or parchment, and sewed on the bag. It first ran "Count
Ludwig de Hombourg, Jerusalem;" but the name of the Holy City had been
dashed out with the pen, and that of "Godesberg" substituted. So far
indeed had the cavalier travelled!--and it is needless to state that the
bag in question contained such remaining articles of the toilet as the
high-born noble deemed unnecessary to place in his valise.
"By Saint Bugo of Katzenellenbogen!" said the good knight, shivering,
"'tis colder here than at Damascus! Marry, I am so hungry I could eat
one of Saladin's camels. Shall I be at Godesberg in time for dinner?"
And taking out his horologe (which hung in a small side-pocket of his
embroidered surcoat), the crusader consoled himself by finding that it
was but seven of the night, and that he would reach Godesberg ere the
warder had sounded the second gong.
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