Thus his melody was indeed jocund, and sounded so powerfully, that Bertha was attracted by the notes, and came unobserved to his side, with looks how changed from those which she had worn the preceding day! Her eyes were indeed still bright, but it was her tears only that glittered in the sun. “And this is then in truth your farewell song?” said she. Otto remained for a space silent and meditative, then answered,--“Dearest Bertha, that song has indeed expressed more than I intended; more indeed than I was well conscious of ere it was begun. Like the flowers, and the brightness of the new year, my own newly-awakened hopes and prospects dawned on my mind, and carried me quite away. For listen, dearest Bertha! We cannot longer disguise it from each other, that whatever this music has accidentally betrayed is but the truth. The strange lady, with her beauty and distress, has got complete possession of my heart, which is for the first time inspired with a chivalrous and knightly passion. Take courage then and be merry! Ere long there will doubtless appear some wandering knight-errant, who will arrive here as unexpectedly as Gabrielle has done, and for whose sake you will soon forget the fond foolish Otto.” “Such a knight will never come hither,” said Bertha, mournfully; “and as for the distress of that lady, perhaps I too--” Here she blushed deeply, and was silent. “Nay,” said Otto vehemently, and starting up, “if you indeed should ever be in distress, then would I think of no other. My life and all my endeavours should be devoted to you alone.” “I shall not, however, choose you for my champion, Knight of Trautwangen,” said Bertha, proudly and coldly. “Believe me, if our pagan foes, as we read in the old histories, had bound me to the stake, with the devouring flames kindling around me, and you came up on horseback, arrayed in your bright armour as you are now, to offer your assistance, I would only say,--‘Thanks! I have no need of such a defender!’ and would cry out, ‘Pile on more flaming brands;’ and then I would extinguish them even with my tears; and yet methinks no! that might not be, for they are already too scorching!” With these words, weeping bitterly, she sank down upon the grass, and Otto, in the conflict of his feelings, accidentally drew his hand across the harp, so that one of the strings broke, with a long mournful intonation. Bertha raised herself up at the sound. “Mark,” said she, “how you treat all that belongs to me! Why have you first pulled off your iron gloves? With them you might have sooner broke my unfortunate harp into pieces. Give it to me, Sir Knight! This poor remembrance at least remains mine.” So she took the instrument vehemently out of his hands, and ran away. He called after her, but she only rocked the lute in her arms, as if it had been a child that had received some injury, drawing from it all the while mild and heart-moving tones, till, without once looking round, she vanished from his sight behind the chapel.