“Good heaven! is it possible?--Art thou Heerdegen of Lichtenried?” cried the Knight of Trautwangen, as if uncertain and perplexed, although the deep scars which his own sword had left over the brows of Sir Heerdegen might have removed all doubt. Forgetting their old quarrels, the two young knights met even like loving friends, and locked each other in a cordial embrace. On both sides they felt that they had been in the wrong; and there is, perchance, no other feeling which, in the hearts of brave and virtuous warriors, is so likely to produce mutual good-will and attachment. To have used many words of apology would have been needless, and would even have disturbed their present happiness at meeting;--besides, the Lady Minnatrost and the sea-monarch looked so anxiously towards Sir Heerdegen, that the Knight of Trautwangen perceived how important must have been the discourse which his coming had interrupted, and could not help eagerly wishing for its renewal. “The times are indeed wild and unruly,” said Sir Heerdegen, as they all took their places round the table; “what I have told you before, and what Sir Otto has not heard, I shall now repeat as rapidly as may be. At the siege of Ptolemais, King Richard Cœur de Lion quarrelled with the Duke John of Austria. Thereafter, when the king too rashly came as a pilgrim through the Austrian dominions, the duke planned an ambuscade, and took him prisoner.” “Good Heaven!” exclaimed Sir Otto, “if King Richard Cœur de Lion be taken prisoner, then the whole spirit of knighthood over the world must at once be crushed and destroyed.” “For this very reason all true knights must now exert themselves,” answered Sir Heerdegen. “The question is, in what prison, and whether by sea or land, King Richard is now held captive? The Duke John says, on one day, that the king is by no means in his custody; on the next, he affirms, that he has been given up to the emperor; and on the third, that he has already made his escape. What then can an honest Christian knight resolve to do in the midst of such contradictions?--To say the truth, one’s brain grows confused when he thinks of such treachery,--our hearts are almost broken,--and, even with the most undaunted courage, we cannot perform any one exploit of which the world could say, that it had brought us even halfway to our grand object.” “Truly,” said Sir Otto, “this world begins ill my estimation to become wearisome. At a distance, perchance, it may seem, both to angels and demons, pleasant and full of pastime; but to him who is in the midst of its occupations and sorrows, life is indeed but a sorry jest.”