"I'll bet, you have not looked out for a lodging yet," said Dieterick von Kraft, "and it might be now somewhat difficult to find one, as it is getting dark, and the town is very full." Albert acknowledged he had not thought about it; he hoped however to find a room in one of the public inns. "I would not have you be quite so sure of that," answered the other, "and, should you find a corner in one of those houses, you must reckon upon being but badly off. But if my lodging would not appear too small for you, it is very much at your service." The good secretary of the council pressed Albert with so much cordiality, that he did not hesitate to take advantage of his invitation, though he almost feared lest, when the effects of the wine had passed off, his host might regret his proffered hospitality to him, a perfect stranger. Dieterick von Kraft, however, appeared rejoiced at the readiness with which his proposal was accepted, and taking Albert's arm, with a hearty shake of the hand, led him out of the room. The square before the town-hall was in the mean time the scene of much bustle and confusion. The days were still short, and the evening having broken in upon the dinner-party, torches were lighted, the glare of which illumined but sparingly the large space, and played on the windows of the opposite houses, and on the polished helmets and cuirasses of the knights. Loud calls for horses and attendants sounding through the town-hall, the clatter of swords, the running here and there of many men, coupled with the barking of dogs, the neighing and pawing of impatient horses, formed a scene, which resembled more the surprise of a military post in the night by an enemy, than the breaking up of a convivial festival. Albert remained in the hall in a state of amazement at the sight of so many jovial faces and powerful figures, who, having mounted their horses, retired in small groups, singing and springing about in all the hilarity of youth. This nocturnal, fleeting scene, forcibly impressed him with the conviction of the uncertainty and changeableness of all worldly events. These same joyous associates, thought he, would soon be engaged in the dangerous concerns of war, when many of them, even before the spring should be fully advanced, would cover the green grass with their bodies, with no other price offered for their blood than the tear of a comrade, or the short-lived glory of having fallen before the enemy as brave men.