But it did not have an end. Instead, it became more and more edifying; for when the sun went down, torches were lighted, and the whole assembly made for the largest hall in the castle to engage in dancing. After the Emperor had danced the first round with the bride, Zendelwald took her on his arm and danced three or four times with her round the hall until, all aglow, she suddenly took him by the hand and drew him aside to a quiet turret-chamber flooded with moonlight. There she flung herself on his breast, stroked his fair beard, and thanked him for his coming and for his affection. Honest Zendelwald, however, wished to ascertain whether he were dreaming or waking, and questioned her about how matters really stood, especially about his double. For a long time, she did not understand him; but one word led to another. Zendelwald said this and that had happened to him, and told her all about his journey, about his turning in to the little church, and how he had fallen asleep there and been too late for the tournament. At that the affair became so far clear to Bertrade that she recognized for the second time the hand of her gracious patroness. But now at last she had opportunity to regard the valiant knight boldly as a gift from Heaven, and she was grateful enough to press the substantial present to her heart in good earnest and return him full measure for the luscious kiss which she had received from Heaven itself. But, from that time forth, Sir Zendelwald lost all his sluggishness and dreamy irresolution. He said everything and did everything at the right time before the tender Bertrade and before the rest of the world, and he became a great man in the Empire, so that the Emperor was as well content with him as was his wife. As for Zendelwald's mother, she appeared at the wedding mounted on horseback, and as proud as if she had been enthroned in fortune all her life long. She looked after money and estates, and hunted in the extensive forests to an advanced age. Bertrade never failed to have Zendelwald take her once a year to the lonely little castle which was his home, where she cooed in the grey tower with her darling as tenderly as the wild doves in the trees round about. But they never omitted to enter the little church on their way, and address their prayers to the Virgin, who stood there as prim and saintly as if she had never once come down from her altar. THE VIRGIN AND THE NUN O that I had wings like a dove: for then would I flee away, and be at rest. Psalm lv. 6. A convent lay on a mountain overlooking a wide prospect, and its walls gleamed across the land. Within, it was full of women, beautiful and unbeautiful, who all served the Lord and his Virgin Mother after a strict rule.