“‘Doctor?’” spoke he, smiling, “none of that. Junker Georg they are all calling me, and tell me I am a ‘knight prisoner.’ They have given me a noble chamber, where I can sit aloft in the region of the birds, and they say to me ‘_nolens volens_ I must do this or do that.’ But, thank heaven, they have not taken away from me ink and paper. Von Steinitz and his lieutenant, Von Berlepsch, are exceeding kind, and tell me after a little I will be suffered to ride out with a servant, and to enjoy the good green world. In the meantime if you are well, I am well, and, for that Christ be praised!” So we talked together until Ilsa came in, with the roses again in her cheeks, and sent my master away, telling him I must not be wearied with talking longer. Pleasant always has been to me the Maytime, whether in southland or northland, but never fairer than then, in those sweet days of gold, when strength and clear mind were returning day by day. Every morning our walk from the castle grew longer, as Ilsa and I sought out some flowery mead beside the singing brooks, and like children made ourselves flower crowns, and flower chains, and chattered of how we would play the King and Queen in the Regenstein, and rule with a loving tyranny over all our vassals. Von Steinitz had pulled at his beard a long time when I came, with Moritz at my side, to ask for a speedy wedding, even at the Wartburg, with Ilsa. “Pardon my slow wits,” he had protested, “it is no light thing to talk of bridal with a nun, even though this old world changes fast.” Perhaps it was the tidings that had drifted into the Wartburg only the night before, how the French Ambassador had quitted the Emperor with threats of instant war from his sovereign, that sent down the scale in our favor. It was like enough his Imperial Majesty would have plenty on his hands besides chasing Saxon heretics and enforcing vows of celibacy. In any case our petition prevailed. “_Donnerwetter!_ Let them marry!” had been the decision, and although his good Freifrau made difficulties, these were mostly over the shortness of the time for preparing. “No great linen chest! No great assemblage of guests! When had a daughter of the family been married like a miller’s lass?” At which Ilsa had only laughed like rippling water, and vowed she was ready that selfsame day--yes! though she wore the clothes wherewith she had ridden from Giessen, an assertion at which her aunt dissolved in horror, redoubled when I vowed I was right willing to take Ilsa home that moment without more costly dowry. * * * * *