"How is my friend," said he, "the good knight, Sir Hildebrandt?"
"By Saint Buffo, this is too much!" screamed the Margrave, and actually
rushed from time room.
"By Saint Bugo," said his friend, "gallant knights, gentle sirs, what
ails my good Lord Margave?"
"Perhaps his nose bleeds," said Gottfried, with a sneer.
"Ah, my kind friend," said the Margravine with uncontrollable emotion,
"I fear some of you have passed from the frying-pan into the fire." And
making the signal of departure to the ladies, they rose and retired to
coffee in the drawing-room.
The Margrave presently came back again, somewhat more collected than he
had been. "Otto," he said sternly, "go join the ladies: it becomes not a
young boy to remain in the company of gallant knights after dinner."
The noble Childe with manifest unwillingness quitted the room, and the
Margrave, taking his lady's place at the head of the table, whispered
to Sir Ludwig, "Hildebrandt will be here to-night to an evening-party,
given in honor of your return from Palestine. My good friend--my true
friend--my old companion in arms, Sir Gottfried! you had best see that
the fiddlers be not drunk, and that the crumpets be gotten ready." Sir
Gottfried, obsequiously taking his patron's hint, bowed and left the
room.
Pages:
324
325
326
327
328
329
330
331
332
333
334
335
336
337
338
339
340
341
342
343
344
345
346
347
348