Albert was astonished at this singular question, and observed him more closely. He was not very tall, but strongly built, broad-chested, and of mean appearance. His face, much tanned by the sun, might have passed as plain and insignificant to a superficial observer, but, upon a narrower inspection, there was a certain expression about the eyes and mouth which, in addition to cunning and acuteness, bespoke daring and audacity. His hair and beard were dark yellow, and smooth; he carried a long dagger or knife in his leathern girdle; in one hand he held an axe, in the other a low round leathern cap, such as the Swabian peasant of the present day wears. Whilst Albert made these hasty observations, he narrowly watched the expression of his features. "Perhaps you did not thoroughly understand me, sir knight," continued the other, after a short silence; "so I will explain myself more fully. Let me ask, what should be added to _Sturm_ and _Licht_, to form two noble names?" "_Feder_ and _stein_," answered the young man, to whom it was immediately clear, what was to be understood by the question; "but what is your business?" "So you are Albert von Sturmfeder?" said the other; "and I come from Bertha von----" "For heaven's sake be silent, friend; mention no names," said Albert; "tell me quickly, have you got any thing for me?" "A note, sir," said the peasant; when, unbuckling a broad black leather band, wound under his knee, he produced a small strip of parchment. Albert took the parchment with hasty joy; there were a few words written on it with black shining ink. It appeared to have cost some trouble to the writer, and proved that the young ladies of 1519 were not so ready with their pen, to express their tender feelings, as those of the present day, when every village beauty can write an epistle to her swain as long as her garter. The chronicle whence we have taken this history, has happily preserved every word of the confused traces on the parchment, which Albert's greedy eye now speedily deciphered as follows: "Remember your oath--fly bytimes. God conduct thee. Your Bertha----to eternity." These few words expressed a pious, tender feeling, dictated by a loving heart. No wonder then that Albert was for some moments lost in a state of joyous intoxication. He sent a look of gratitude toward the distant blue mountains in the direction of Lichtenstein, and thanked his love for the consolation these lines afforded him, for truly, never had he stood so much in need of comfort, as at this moment. He was now convinced, that a being, the dearest that existed in the world to him, had not forsaken him. His heart resumed its usual cheerfulness, he proffered his hand to the trusty messenger, thanked him cordially, and asked him how he came by the strip of parchment.