"Come, noble count," said Drost Peter, hastily, "let us not get into the crowd, with our unruly horses. We are now close to my dwelling." They rode on a little way, and stopped at a dark-looking house, where, on the high stone steps, stood a squire, bearing a torch. "You are arrived at last, sir," cried Claus Skirmen, springing towards him with the torch. "Has any mischance befallen you? I ventured not to disobey your commands by leaving the house myself; but I have sent all the servants out in search of you." "We have had a little encounter with a pair of hasty young knights on our way," said Drost Peter, "and my noble guest has been somewhat severely wounded. Assist him carefully from his horse. Is all in order?" "As you have commanded, sir. But are you not also wounded? Shall I bring a surgeon?" "That is unnecessary, so long as you and I are here. We would have no talk about the matter. Attend only to the count." Not without wincing and sundry oaths did the wounded Count Gerhard dismount from his horse, and ascend the high stone steps, where his two knights and the lanky jester received him with sympathising attentions. "A truce with condolences," said the count. "I am both bound and salved. Let me only get to table, and have something to live on." Claus Skirmen went hastily forwards, and conducted the count, through an ante-room, into a spacious vaulted apartment, where stood a covered table, with tall wax-lights, and well garnished with provisions and bright silver wine-flagons. Count Gerhard regarded these preparations with satisfaction, and immediately threw himself into a chair; and, the better to seat himself, he released his sword from its belt. As he held it in his hand, he recollected the intimation he had received at the city-gate. "'Sdeath!" he said, "if we must behave as you say, sir drost, we must now, like prisoners of war, hand you over our weapons, since you are host." "Now, indeed," replied Drost Peter, "it is well you recollected it; for, truth to say, I had forgotten it; and, if I had not, I should have been forced to request you to do so." "But if now I should not obey the mandate," inquired the count, "what are the consequences?" "If you were ignorant of the law, and by a solemn oath could pledge yourself to that effect, the penalty is only a mark-penny to the governor, and one to the town. The same penalty is inflicted on the housekeeper who does not inform his guest of the law." "But, now that I know this stupid ordinance, and yet will not allow myself to be disarmed, what great misfortune follows?" "Without being displeased, allow me to answer you in the words of the law itself, Count Gerhard. 'If the guest is reminded, and wears his weapon nevertheless,' it says, 'then, with the same spear, sword, or knife, shall he be run through.'" "Oh, what a mischance! Not through the heart or gizzard?" "Through the hand, noble count. There hangs the table of the law: you can read it yourself."