I rode over to Schloss Blankenburg in what state I could affect. My neighbor’s castle was much like my own, only in general more dingy, though not without some display of tawdry magnificence. There was a swarm of lousy grooms and hangers-on in the dirty court. My troop was saluted with much blowing of horns and burning of powder. In the entrance to the great hall Graf Eckbert came to meet me, and his person did not belie the character Dame Hedwig gave him. He had a girth nigh equal his moderate stature; sandy, frowsy hair and beard, with small bluish eyes peering out of as seared and sensual face as ever there was betwixt Kiel and Basel. Two missing teeth gave his jaw a most uncanny grin. A great staff of a sabre clattered at his thigh. His green velvet jacket boasted much gold lace, but was slovenly with wine stains. In short, his person was such that it took all my self-control to greet this noble lord courteously, as my equal and my neighbor. But Moritz was there, gravely and properly arrayed; and leaning on his shoulder was Gräfin Ilsa, bedecked even as St. Dorothea, a rose branch in her hand, a rose wreath on her hair, and a great bunch of roses and cherries tied to her silver girdle. She wore a blue sweeping gown of Antwerp taffeta, and some very good pearls at her throat. I wondered a little at this display of taste and wealth, knowing the condition of the Blankenburg estate, but it later appeared that the jewels and dress were the gifts of her uncle, the Castellan of Wittenberg. Graf Eckbert, whatever his sins, was not taciturn. My flesh crept as he kissed me on both cheeks. He poured a volley of maudlin compliments in my ear, asked fifty questions without awaiting an answer, introduced me to half a dozen oafish creatures, whom I discovered were local petty nobles, or discharged lanz-knecht subalterns,--for which “full-brothers” he evidently kept continually a roaring open house,--and so led me into the great hall to the seat at his right on the upper dais. The rest of the company scrambled for places near by. One petty officer thrust himself into a seat more exalted than his deserts, and was pushed out with tumult. Soon the feast was in full progress. The hall shone all black and red under the smoking pine torches. The greasy old server brought us vast lumps of boars’ meat on dingy pewter platters. In the long hall under the dais, a score of dirty retainers chattered, gorged, and quarrelled over the brawn and beer at the table below. All of which time I, the honored guest, thought gloomily on how in that whole castle there was not one soul save myself who so much as knew the names of Homer and Dante, and I tried to picture the delightful little supper the Cardinale di Palaestrina was surely serving that night on the Aventine,--and the wit, the learning and the elegance of the ladies.