"You look at me and my abode with astonishment, my worthy guest," said the knight: "you, perhaps, expected to hear me bewailing my hard fate--but of what use would that be? As no one can retrieve my misfortune in this moment, I think it the wisest plan to put a bold face upon what I cannot alter. But tell me, am not I as well lodged here as many princes in their palaces? Have you noticed the halls and saloons of this my palace? do not the walls shine like silver, and the vaulted ceilings sparkle as if they were set in pearls and diamonds? and the pillars, do they not glitter with emeralds, rubies, and all sorts of precious stones? But here comes Hans, my purveyor, with the wine. Say, my trusty subject, does that cup contain the whole of our cellar?" "Your habitation can boast of water, as clear as crystal," answered the fifer, who well understood the cheerful mood of his companion; "the remainder of the wine in the cellar will fill more than three cups, and--as we have another guest to-day--we may indulge a little. Luckily, I brought a jug full of good old Uhlbacker from the castle to-night." "You have done well," said the exiled knight, whilst a ray of joy flashed from his brilliant eye; "you must not think, Albert von Sturmfeder, that I am a wine-bibber; but good wine is a noble thing, and I love to see the full glass circulate in friendly society. Put the jug down here, worthy master of the cellar, we'll enjoy ourselves, as in the best days of our prosperity. Here's to you, and the former splendour of the house of Sturmfeder!" Albert thanked the knight, and drank. "I wish I could return the honour, in drinking to your name," he said; "but, as you have already hesitated to give it me, I will not ask it now, sir knight. But here's to you, and may you return victorious to the castles of your fathers, and may your family live and nourish there for ever--huzza!" He pronounced the last word with a loud voice, and just as he set his cup down, he was astonished to hear it repeated by many sounds, which appeared to be voices, coming from the whole length of the grotto: "What is that?" he said, "are not we alone?" "Those are my vassals,--spirits," answered the knight, smiling; "or, if you prefer it, the echo, which responds to your kind wish. I have often heard," he added, in a more serious tone, "in the days of my prosperity, the success of my house cheered by hundreds of voices; but I have never been more pleased, or more affected, than to have it drank to, by my only guest, and re-echoed among the rocks of these lower regions. Fill the cup, Hans, and drink, and if you can give us a good toast, let's have it." The fifer of Hardt filled the cup, and glanced a significant look at Albert: "Here's to you, sir, and something which will please you more,--the Lady of Lichtenstein!"