"Thou art really much too conscientious, sister Margaretha! In comparison with me, thou art half an angel, it is true; but confess to me now, it was surely not _purely_ for the Lord's sake you stayed and behaved so generously to the Drost. He is a very handsome young knight, although he cannot be compared to Sir Kagge, and I have seen plainly enough how tenderly and lovingly your eyes meet each time you bind up his wounds--thou art really making him greatly beholden to thee." "Be not malicious, dear Ulrica," answered Margaretha, blushing crimson; "what harm is there in my tending him with unfeigned good will?" "Tend him with as much good will as thou likest; I never said there was any harm in that--call him every instant the noble and the pious, just as if he were the only good knight in Christendom! but at any rate give _me_ leave to defend Sir Kagge, and feel anxious for him when he perils his life for my sake! It was indeed not _quite_ according to rule that he left us when we were captured! I shall scold him finely for that when we meet; but what was he to do against so many? If he escaped, he could still hope to free us as long as he himself was at liberty. As to his attacking the Drost in the dark gateway, without sounding a trumpet before him, it perhaps did not look altogether chivalrous; but stratagem against superior force is always lawful in war, and it was after all a bold and desperate enterprise, which may even yet cost him his life, although it did nought either for or against us--ah! did I but know he was safe, I would gladly be patient, and put up with this captivity some time longer.--When the king gets to know what I now know he will have to ask pardon, and treat me like a princess." "Poor Ulrica! what sayest thou?" exclaimed her sister in dismay, and turning pale; "what madman can have put into your head----"