THE FESTIVAL.
The festival was indeed begun. Coming on horseback, or in their
caroches, knights and ladies of the highest rank were assembled in the
grand saloon of Godesberg, which was splendidly illuminated to receive
them. Servitors, in rich liveries, (they were attired in doublets of the
sky-blue broadcloth of Ypres, and hose of the richest yellow sammit--the
colors of the house of Godesberg,) bore about various refreshments
on trays of silver--cakes, baked in the oven, and swimming in melted
butter; manchets of bread, smeared with the same delicious condiment,
and carved so thin that you might have expected them to take wing and
fly to the ceiling; coffee, introduced by Peter the Hermit, after his
excursion into Arabia, and tea such as only Bohemia could produce,
circulated amidst the festive throng, and were eagerly devoured by the
guests. The Margrave's gloom was unheeded by them--how little indeed is
the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that are lurking in the breasts
of those who bid them to the feast! The Margravine was pale; but woman
knows how to deceive; she was more than ordinarily courteous to her
friends, and laughed, though the laugh was hollow, and talked, though
the talk was loathsome to her.
“The two are together,” said the Margrave, clutching his friend's
shoulder. “NOW LOOK!”
Sir Ludwig turned towards a quadrille, and there, sure enough, were Sir
Hildebrandt and young Otto standing side by side in the dance. Two eggs
were not more like! The reason of the Margrave's horrid suspicion at
once flashed across his friend's mind.
“'Tis clear as the staff of a pike,” said the poor Margrave, mournfully.
“Come, brother, away from the scene; let us go play a game at cribbage!”
and retiring to the Margravine's boudoir, the two warriors sat down to
the game.
But though 'tis an interesting one, and though the Margrave won, yet he
could not keep his attention on the cards: so agitated was his mind by
the dreadful secret which weighed upon it. In the midst of their play,
the obsequious Gottfried came to whisper a word in his patron's ear,
which threw the latter into such a fury, that apoplexy was apprehended
by the two lookers-on. But the Margrave mastered his emotion. “AT WHAT
TIME, did you say?” said he to Gottfried.
“At daybreak, at the outer gate.”
“I will be there.”
“AND SO WILL I TOO,” thought Count Ludwig, the good Knight of Hombourg.