Ekkehard came up to the hall. He had exercised with the others, and his face glowed with the unwonted exertion; whilst the helmet had left a red stripe on his forehead. In the excitement of the moment, he had forgotten to leave his lance, outside the door. With evident pleasure Dame Hadwig stood looking at him. He was no longer the timid teacher of Latin. Bowing his head before the Duchess, he said: "Our brothers in the Lord, from the Reichenau, bid me tell you that a great thirst is besetting their ranks." Dame Hadwig laughed merrily. "Let them put a tun of cool beer in the courtyard. Until the Huns are all driven out of the country, our cellarer is not to complain about the emptying of his tuns." Then pointing at the bustling life in the courtyard, she added: "Life after all, brings us richer and more manifold pictures than all poets can paint. You were hardly prepared for such a change of things, eh?" But Ekkehard would allow nothing approaching a slight, to come near his beloved Virgilius. "Allow me," said he, leaning on his spear, "all that we now see, you will find word for word in the Æneïd; as if there was to be nothing new under the sun. Would you not fancy that Virgil stood here on this balcony, looking down on yonder busy crowd;--when he sang, at the beginning of the war in Latium: "Yonder the shields for the head, are with willowy branches surrounded; Others the armour of ore, are to shining polish restoring, There, the protecting greaves, of glittering silver are forged. Sickle and plough for the time, are dishonoured and wholly forgotten, All are busily mending the rusty swords of their fathers; bugles are heard in the land, and the watch-word to all is now given." "Yes, that really fits the situation wonderfully well," said Dame Hadwig, "but can you also predict, the issue of the coming battles, from your epic,"--she was going to ask; but in times of such busy confusion, 'tis somewhat difficult to speak about poetry. At that moment the steward came in, to report that all the meat was eaten up; and to ask whether he might kill two more oxen. After a few days, Simon Bardo's men were so well drilled, that he could let them pass muster before the Duchess;--and it was time, for they had already been disturbed in their rest, last night. A bright red light was illuminating the sky, far over the lake. Like a fiery cloud, the dread sign hung there for several hours; the conflagration being probably far off in Helvetia. The monks began to dispute about it. Some said that it was a heavenly apparition; a fiery star, sent as a warning unto all Christendom. Others said that there must be a great conflagration in the Rhine-valley; and one brother, gifted with a particularly fine nose, even pretended to perceive the smell of burning. It was long past midnight, when the red light died out.