“Then are the conditions perfect for such converse, my Lord. No guard stands within this hall.” The Count sighed deeply, turned and sat again on the bench, burying his face in his hands. The maiden having given excellent reasons why she should not enter, thus satisfying her sense of logic, now set logic at defiance, slipped under the lowest chain and stood within the room, and, so that there might be no accusation that she did things by halves, closed the door leaning her back against it. The knight looked up at her and saw that she too had rested but indifferently. Her lovely eyes half veiled, showed traces of weeping, and there was a wistful expression in her face that touched him tenderly, and made him long for her; nevertheless he kept a rigid government upon himself, and sat there regarding her, she flushing, slightly under his scrutiny, not daring to return his ardent gaze. “Beatrix,” he said slowly, “I have acted towards you like a boor and a ruffian, as indeed I am; but let this plead for me, that I have ever been used to the roughness of the camp, bereft of gentler influences. I ask your forgiveness.” “There is nothing to forgive. You are a noble of the Empire, and I but a lowly serving-maid.” “Nay, that cuts me to the heart, and is my bitterest condemnation. A true man were courteous to high and low alike. Now, indeed, you overwhelm me with shame, maiden of the woodlands.” “Such was not my intention, my Lord. I hold you truly noble in nature as well as in rank, otherwise I stood not here.” “Beatrix, does any woodlander come from the forest to the castle walls and there give signal intended for you alone?” “Oh, no, my Lord.” “Perhaps you have kindly preference for some one within this stronghold?” “You forget, my Lord, that the castle is ruled by a lady, and that the preference you indicate would accord ill with her womanly government.” “In truth I know little of woman’s rule, but given such, I suppose the case would stand as you say. The Countess then frowns upon lovers’ meetings.” “How could it be otherwise?” “Have you told her of--of yesterday?” “You mean of your refusal to come to terms with her? Yes, my Lord.” “I mean nothing of the kind, Beatrix.” “No one outside this room has been told aught to your disadvantage, my Lord,” said the girl blushing rose-red. “Then she suspects nothing?” “Suspects nothing of what, my Lord?” “That I love you, Beatrix.” The girl caught her breath, and seemed about to fly, but gathering courage, remained, and said speaking hurriedly and in some confusion: “As I did not suspect it myself I see not how my Lady should have made any such surmise, but indeed it may be so, for she chided me bitterly for remaining so long with you, and made me weep with her keen censure; yet am I here now against her express wish and command, but that is because of my strong sympathy for you and my belief that the Countess has wrongfully treated you.”