His friend looked round, and perceived a train of travellers with a litter in the middle. An old man on horseback brought up the rear of the party, which now moved towards the castle. Albert observing them more closely, cried out, in wild joy, "It's them! it's them! it is her father, and she is in the litter!" One spring took him out of the room, to the great astonishment of the scribe. "Who can it be? what father?" said he. He returned to the window, and looking out, he saw the cavalcade stop on the drawbridge, and in the same moment his friend fly through the gate. Dieterich then observed him to open the door like a madman, a lady in a veil stepped out of the litter, and when she threw it back, to his great surprise he recognised his cousin Bertha von Lichtenstein. "But only see; he kisses her in the public street," said the scribe to himself, shaking his head, "I have never seen such joy before! But, alas! there goes the father to the litter; what angry eyes he will make! how he will stamp and swear! but no, he nods kindly to my friend; he dismounts, he embraces him.--Well, that's very curious, I must say!" The scribe could scarcely believe his eyes, and to convince himself that he was not deceived, left the room, and went into the gallery, where he perceived the old knight of Lichtenstein coming up the stairs, leading Albert by his right hand, and Cousin Bertha by the left. He thought a great alteration for the better had taken place in her beautiful features, since the time they had made such a deep impression on his heart, and still lived in his recollection.