"
"Wilt thou enter the household of the Prince of Cleves?" said the father
of Helen, laughing, and not a little amused at the haughtiness of the
humble archer.
"I would die for the Duke of Cleves and HIS FAMILY," said Otto, bowing
low. He laid a particular and a tender emphasis on the word family.
Helen knew what he meant. SHE was the family. In fact her mother was no
more, and her papa had no other offspring.
"What is thy name, good fellow," said the Prince, "that my steward may
enroll thee?"
"Sir," said Otto, again blushing, "I am OTTO THE ARCHER."
CHAPTER XI.
THE MARTYR OF LOVE.
The archers who had travelled in company with young Otto gave a handsome
dinner in compliment to the success of our hero; at which his friend
distinguished himself as usual in the eating and drinking department.
Squintoff, the Rowski bowman, declined to attend; so great was the envy
of the brute at the youthful hero's superiority. As for Otto himself, he
sat on the right hand of the chairman; but it was remarked that he could
not eat. Gentle reader of my page! thou knowest why full well. He was
too much in love to have any appetite; for though I myself when laboring
under that passion, never found my consumption of victuals diminish, yet
remember our Otto was a hero of romance, and they NEVER are hungry when
they're in love.
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