“Nevertheless, honest Dame,” I said, “weak though my rapier seem, I avow I can hold my own against any master of the greater weapon. It is not a matter of strength, but of skill--thus--and thus--and thus--” And carried away with pride in my martial art, I swept out the glittering blade and flashed it about with rapid feints and passes. Dame Hedwig showed her sharp teeth testily. “I don’t question your skill with that bodkin, young Lord. I only know everything from your beardless chin to your flourishings now, and the way you talk with your hands more than with your tongue, prove that you are no German.” “No German?” I was beginning to lose my temper. “This noble lady here will pardon me if I tell you I demand a civil tongue from my equals and my inferiors. I am hereditary lord of Regenstein, only son of the last Graf. I have ever defended my father’s people and land against the slanders of Italians, and I will not now, on my return to my possessions, be told that I am a stranger and interloper amongst them.” Hedwig put down the bag of wormwood and walked straight up to me. Her attitude was respectful, but firm. I could see that Ilsa was watching all we did. “No offence, noble Lord. When you spoke then, I saw your eye light up in a manner worthy of the Grafs your fathers. Regenstein you may be, and German you may become. But you are not yet. Will your Lordship hold out your right hand?” I complied, half misdoubting her intentions. She opened my fingers and peered, with her sharp nose down into the palm, then dropped it abruptly. “What do you read, Hedwig?” asked Ilsa, with a very girlish giggle. “Read? Oh! He has a life line and a wealth line both favorable. He shall have two affairs of the heart, the first sorrowful and broken, the second exceeding joyous.” Ilsa clapped her own hands, ejaculating, “How excellent!” But Hedwig went on. “Above all a great change shall come into his life. A change altering the whole of his being,--his mode of thought, speech, hope, life, soul--” “Ah! tell!” commanded the young lady. Hedwig, however, shook her head, and looked up craftily into my face. “Noble Lord, I cannot tell the rest. But if you are wise, give ear.” She half danced, half glided away from me, all the time keeping my eye, and chanted shrilly:-- “Half of Northland, Half of Southland, Never gay Till all of _one_ land!” “Do you understand?” she concluded, with a meaning smile. Before I could decide whether to be pleased or to be angry, a clatter of hoofs sounded outside the cottage. I saw half a dozen mounted serving-men with lances and cross-bows, and at their head a lady in the sweeping white robes of a sovereign abbess, upon a stately black palfrey. Ilsa had sprung to the door as the cortège drew up, making a very wry face the while. “Aunt Theckla,” she threw out. “I knew she would be vexed if I came to Hedwig’s.”