Just beyond the arch of the gateway stood the Lady Adelaide, with her women, looking more lovely--at least in the eyes of Ferdinand of Altenburg--than she had ever done before; the colour of her cheek heightened, and the light in her eye which can only be given by love. As soon as Count Frederick saw her, he spoke a few words to her father in a low voice; the Lord of Ehrenstein bowed his head, and his guest instantly sprang to the ground, and advancing gracefully to the lady, took her hand, and pressed his lips upon it. The rest of the party also dismounted, and Count Frederick, still holding Adelaide by the hand, and gazing upon her with a look of admiration and interest, was led to the lesser hall, where her father, apologizing for being absent a moment, left him to the entertainment of the fair lady for a time, and hurrying back into the court, called Ferdinand to him. "Is all prepared in the hall?" he asked, with a low voice. "Yes, my good lord," replied the young man. "But I pray you do not go to see it yet, till it be lighted up. The evening is beginning to fall, and at supper-time it will show as you could wish it. So sweetly has Lady Adelaide decked it all, it seems as if she were born a queen of flowers, and that they do her bidding willingly." The Count smiled, but went on to say, "Then you had nothing to interrupt you--none of these strange sights again?" "None, none, my lord," answered Ferdinand. "The only strange sight that visited us during the day, was that giant Franz Creussen; but he did us good service, helped to reach up where we could not stretch our arms, and in the labouring part did more than any one. He was only just gone when you arrived." "He passed us on the road, without a word," replied the Count; "neither doffed his bonnet, nor made any sign of reverence. The time may come for a reckoning between me and good Franz Creussen, when we shall know whether the noble is to be bearded by a serf." "I believe he means no harm, my lord Count," replied Ferdinand, warmly, but respectfully: "he has borne arms, I have heard, and is somewhat rough in manners; but all the country people speak well of him, and men say he is no serf, but of good blood." "His trade is a churl's, at all events," replied the Count, frowning, "and the trade makes the man, youth.--I know right well he has borne arms--'tis that renders him insolent. The day will come, however--the day will come.--All men speak well of him, eh? Did you ever know any one of whom all men spoke well, who was not a cunning knave, skilful in taking advantage of the follies of others for their own purposes? The man whom the rabble curse, is often their best friend; the fawning sycophant who panders to their caprices, uses them but as means, to cast them off when he has done with them."