"The court would ill suit me," Albrecht remarked, while the good priest remained sunk in astonishment at the change which the words of Erna indicated. "My choice is for the forest, for the hunt and the chase. The only thing at court that would attract me would be the tourney." "Would that I might see thee in the lists!" Erna half murmured, leaning a little toward him. "Mayhap that thou shalt," he replied. "Stranger things than this have come to pass. If thou dost, thou wilt see me break a lance in thy behalf right gladly." "And thou no longer thinkest," Father Christopher interposed gravely, "that it is wrong for knights to risk their lives in mere wanton pastime?" "Oh, there may be some danger," she returned with a slight air of impatience, "but why must one be forever troubling to examine too closely? Is there to be no pleasure in life lest harm should come after it, forsooth?" Father Christopher left his seat, to stand for a moment looking at the countess as if in bewilderment. He did not in truth know what to make of his mistress in such a mood as this, so different was it from all that she had ever been before. He seemed minded to speak, and then, as if reflecting that her words did not after all contain aught which he was called upon to regard with severity, and perhaps that in any case what he might wish to say to her would be delivered better privately, he sighed deeply, and moved away without further speech. Erna looked after him as he slowly passed down the hall, the edge of his robe here and there catching upon one of the rushes with which the floor was strewn. "Poor Father Christopher!" she said with a low, sweet laugh, "I have grieved him. It is a pity to make him unhappy. I never used to do that." She regarded her gay-colored embroidery a moment absently, as if she did not see it; then suddenly she dropped the hand which held her needle and leaned toward her companion. "What hast thou done to me?" she demanded. "Hast thou bewitched me, that all the things that I loved have become dull to me, and all the things which I wished not for are now in my thoughts with longing?" A roaring blast shook the castle windows, and it was as if the spirits of the storm, sweeping up from the bosom of the wild and mighty Schwarzwald, shouted in mocking laughter outside; but neither Erna nor Albrecht regarded. "I have done nothing to thee," the knight answered, in his turn bending forward; "but what hast thou done to me, that I linger here day after day, and that I consider now the pain of the beast that dies by my spear, or of the bird that my falcon strikes?" "Nothing have I done to thee," Erna answered; but her voice faltered, and her glance fell. Albrecht reached out his big brown hand, and took her milk-white fingers in his. "Only," he said, "I love thee."