After the battle at Legnano, the Emperor’s old friend Conrad, who had almost miraculously escaped every danger, returned to Castle Felseck. Those were sad days for him and his wife, for their two young heroes had fallen in the first battle for the Emperor. They did not complain, however, of their sorrowful bereavement. Their children had been taken from them in the very flower of their youth, but they made no public show of grief. The Emperor’s companion-in-arms, formerly so active and impetuous, spent his time quietly in the desolate halls of his castle, and consequently had more time to look after the interests of his dependents than when every tumult of war called him away from his home. The fierce passion which used to flame in his eyes in camp and on the battlefield gave place to gentleness and compassion. His wife, always a mother to every one of their dependents, a nurse for the sick, a consoler for the sorrowing, was now doubly eager to serve them; for that bitter grief which only a mother can feel made her all the more sympathetic. Every day she went down the steep road from the castle to those lowly abodes where care and sorrow were usually the only guests. Her servants went with her, carrying food for the hungry and delicacies for the sick and infirm. She provided clothes for the needy, made by her own hands in her solitary hours. The two found their highest consolation in dispensing aid and happiness to all around them, for “it is more blessed to give than to receive.” The tears of gratitude and the hearty “God bless you,” from those they assisted, richly repaid them. God, indeed, beheld their acts of mercy. He, who is all goodness and love, was so pleased as they untiringly carried out His precepts and imitated His example, that He filled their hearts with the highest happiness. A few years after their bereavement He sent them two little sons, faithful likenesses of those they had lost. The first-born brothers lived again in them, and soon the traces of grief disappeared from Conrad’s brow as the lovely little ones embraced him, pulled his beard in childish wantonness, or ran their chubby little hands through his blond hair. Sometimes he would toss them upon his knees, after they had clambered up with a boisterousness that seemed like misbehavior, but was only their clumsy way of showing their affection. As soon as they were old enough it was their chief delight to play in the sunshine the livelong day, to frolic in the castle yard and the garden, to catch the brilliant butterflies, and pluck lovely flowers for welcome gifts to their mother. It was their delight also to visit the stalls where their father’s battle horses were now resting undisturbed, mount his favorite steed, and imitate his exploits with the help of the groom.