Dame Hadwig was touched, for her noble heart could feel and appreciate nature's beauty and grandeur. But the feelings lie very close to each other, and at that moment, a certain tenderness, pervaded her whole being. Her looks from the snowy Alpine peaks fell on Ekkehard. "He is going to consecrate a chapel to St. Hadwig," something whispered within her, over and over again. She advanced a step, as if she were afraid of becoming giddy, and putting her right arm on Ekkehard's shoulder, leaned heavily on him; her sparkling eyes looking intently into his. "What is my friend thinking about?" said she in soft accents. Ekkehard who had been lost in thought started. "I have never before stood on such a height," said he, "and I was reminded of the passage in Scripture: 'Afterwards the devil, taking him up into a high mountain, shewed unto him all the kingdoms of the world in a moment of time. And the devil said unto him: All this will I give Thee, and the glory of them, if thou wilt worship me. But Jesus answered and said unto him: Get thee behind me Satan, for it is written, thou shalt worship the Lord thy God, and Him only shalt thou serve.'" With a strange look the Duchess stepped backwards; the light in her eyes changing, as if she would have liked to push the monk down into the abyss. "Ekkehard!" cried she, "you are either a child--or a fool!" Then she turned round, and hastily and displeased descended the path. Mounting her horse, she rode back to the Hohentwiel, at a gallop, so furious, that her servant could scarcely follow her. Ekkehard full of consternation, remained where he was. He passed his hand over his eyes, as if to remove a mist from before them. When late at night he sat in his tower on the Hohentwiel, thinking of all that had happened that day, he beheld a distant gleam of fire. He looked out and saw that the fiery blaze, arose from the fir-trees on the Hohenkrähen. The woman of the wood, had been paying her last visit to the future chapel of St. Hadwig. CHAPTER X. Christmas. The evening on the Hohenkrähen, cast a gloom also over the following days. Misunderstandings are not easily forgiven; least of all by him who has caused them. For this reason, Dame Hadwig spent some days in a very bad humour, in her own private apartments. Grammar and Virgil had both a holiday. With Praxedis, she took up the old jest about the schoolmasters at Constantinople; seeming now to enjoy it much better. Ekkehard came to ask whether he were to continue his lessons. "I have got a toothache," said the Duchess. Expressing his regret, he attributed it to the rough autumnal weather. Every day, he asked several times how she was, which somewhat conciliated the Duchess. "How is it," said she to Praxedis, "that a person can be of so much more real worth, than he appears outwardly to possess?"