"I bring you Albert von Sturmfeder, my worthy guest," began the scribe to Marie, "who begs to have the pleasure of dancing with you." "Were I not already engaged to my cousin Kraft for the next," said Marie to the young knight, with recovered self-possession, "I would, with pleasure; but Bertha is disengaged." "If you are not engaged, may I have that pleasure?" said he, turning to Bertha. "I am engaged to you," she answered. Then it was that Albert heard again, after so long an absence, that voice which had often called him by the most endearing name; and he dwelt on those eyes which still looked on him with undiminished fidelity. The trumpets again sounded throughout the room. The second in command of the army of the League, Waldburg Truchses, having the precedence in the coming dance, came forth with his lady: the torch-bearers followed; the couples arranged themselves, and Albert also, taking Bertha's hand, placed himself in the ranks. Her eyes now no longer sought the ground, but were directed solely to him. But in the expression of her countenance, Albert could plainly perceive, there was something hanging on her mind indicative of mental suffering. Joy at meeting him again, which had but a moment before brightened up her features, was now succeeded by an expression of dejection, which he could in no wise account for. So much was he struck by the sudden change in her manner, that he was on the point of upbraiding her, and taxing her unjustly with an alteration of love towards him. Grieved at the pain he appeared to suffer, she gently begged him to wait a fitting moment, and then she would explain every thing. She looked cautiously behind her at Dieterick and Marie, who were the next couple to them, to see if they were near enough to overhear her conversation. Finding they were at some distance, she said, "Ah! Albert, what unlucky star has brought you into this army?" "You were that star, Bertha," he replied: "I thought your father would be on the side of the League, and I am glad not to find myself mistaken. Can you blame me for having thrown aside the learned books, and taken to the profession of arms? No other inheritance has fallen to my lot than the sword of my father. I will put it to usury; and prove to your father, that he who loves his daughter is not unworthy of her." "Oh, God! I trust you have not yet sworn allegiance to the League?" she exclaimed, interrupting him. "Do not frighten yourself so, dearest; I have not yet fully bound myself to it, but I intend to do so in a day or two. Will you not allow your Albert to gain some little fame! What is it that makes you so anxious about me? Your father is old, and still he goes with us." "Ah! my father, my father!" Bertha said, in a desponding tone, "he is indeed--but stop, Albert, stop, Marie notices us. But I must speak with you to-morrow--I must, should it cost me my happiness. Oh if I but knew how to manage it."