"There is none with me," he said, "and in sooth I do not know by what right thou dost trouble thyself concerning my affairs. What is it to thee who may or who may not be abroad with me?" Herr Frederich laughed mockingly. "Now, by the True Cross," he returned, "you are indeed in an evil mood. It was but that I wished you well that I said it was strange to find you alone, when I had myself bought from the wood-folk a promise that you should this day have opportunity to be alone with one who is not here." "God's blood!" cried the count; "what hast thou to do with the wood-folk?" "But since forsooth you are in so shrewish a mind," continued Herr Frederich, ignoring his words, "we will not speak of it further. Haply I might have had that to tell which it would have been well for you to know had you been angry at being left thus alone; but it is of no account. Fare you well, Sir Count!" He turned his horse as he spoke, as if he were minded to return into the gloom of the forest whence he had come. Count Stephen dashed forward, and caught his rein. "Not so fast, sirrah!" he said angrily. "If in truth thou hast anything to say, out with it speedily, or by God's wounds I will slay thee on the spot. Thou mayst see if I am in the mind to be lightly trifled with." "Nay," the cripple replied undauntedly; "you do not seem wholly calm and peaceable in your temper. It may be that it will mend if you can wait the issue of the errand upon which I am bound, since then it will go hard but you shall come nigh to the fulfilment of your heart's desire." The count regarded the other somewhat askance. He doubted himself of this swart knave, and while he was not over-scrupulous concerning the means by which he came to the desires of his passions, he had yet a contempt for the traitor who could thus betray his own master. Moreover, although he had been indebted to Herr Frederich for many an interview with the lady of the castle, since the cripple had brought Albrecht into the hall on the morning when Erna had shown the scroll of Ovid, the count had shrewdly doubted but the man was a traitor to all, and bound only to make mischief. Nevertheless, so deeply did the heart of the count long for the love of Erna that he was ready for anything, short of the blackest villany, which would bring him nearer to the fruit of his quest. He bent forward in the dusk of the covert where they had met, and rested his hands upon the pommel of his saddle. "Speak on," he said.