But what most impressed Erna in the appearance of the stranger knight were his magnificent eyes, which were like no others she had ever seen. They were brown and liquid, with that glance at once appealing and defiant, pathetic and fierce, which one sees in the eyes of a stag that proudly leads the herd. One perceived that they could upon occasion kindle into splendid rage, although they were capable of looks of such wistful tenderness, such longing, such melting desire. As Erna advanced down the rush-strewn hall to meet the guest, it almost seemed to her that his glance drew her on, so strongly was she impressed; and yet when he spoke, his voice to her was more strangely sweet than even his wonderful eyes. Father Christopher announced the new-comer as Baron Albrecht von Waldstein; and he added, with a touch of the gossip, that the knight's home lay in the Neiderwasser valley, to the northward. The baron himself explained his presence at the castle. "One of my retainers," he said, "was this morning, as we were riding toward the south, smitten with a strange illness. I feared that we should leave his bones to bleach in the forest for lack of a leech; and he himself had either small courage or strength to ride on. Fortunately his fellow knew that we were near Rittenberg, and I have ventured to bring him here, in the hope that we might for a little find shelter and the aid of a leech." "He shall be looked to," Erna answered with a gentle gravity which became her well. "Our leech is not unskilful, and his best is at thy service." "I thank thee," the baron responded, bowing profoundly. "It were a matter of much inconvenience to be left with but one man-at-arms thus far from home." "Thou must, too, be concerned at the suffering of the poor man," the countess returned. "I am always unhappy if one of my people is ill. They seem so much like animals in their pain, and as if they could not understand what had happened to them. It is very pitiful." The baron regarded her with a look of inquiry on his handsome face. "Of course one cares for his servants," he assented, "since he can so ill get on without them." Had her cousin, Count Stephen, the beat of whose horse's hoofs had so lately died upon the air, said these words, Erna would doubtless have regarded them as shockingly heartless; but now so strongly had the appearance of this stranger won upon her, that she only smiled and shook her head. "Of a truth they have not our feelings," she said; "but after all, they are yet human beings. Wert thou in the forest through the night?" she added. "Thou canst not have come far this morning, especially riding with one who was ill." "We were in the forest all night," the baron responded. "We made shift to shelter us in a cave that we chanced upon. It was the sickness of the man which prevented that we rode further yester-e'en, till we had found lodgings." "But hadst thou no fear of the wood-sprites?" Erna asked.