“What is your desire?” he said with less of truculence in his tone than there had been at the beginning. “I hold it a scandal,” said the Count gravely, “that a prince of the Church should assault Christian walls while their owner is absent in the East venturing his life in the uplifting of the true faith. You can now retreat without loss of prestige; six hours hence that may be impossible. I ask you then to give your assurance to the Lady of Bernstein, pledging your knightly word that she will be no longer threatened by you, and I ask you to withdraw your forces immediately to Cologne where it is likely they will find something to do if Baron Heinrich, as I strongly suspect, marches directly on that city.” “I shall follow the advice of my humble vassal, for the strength of a prince is in the sage counsel of his war lords. Will you escort the lady to the battlements?” Then did Count Konrad von Hochstaden see that his cause was won, and descending he came up again, leading the Lady Brunhilda by the hand. “I have to acquaint you, madame,” said the Archbishop, “that the siege is ended, and I give you my assurance that you will not again be beleaguered by my forces.” The Lady of Bernstein bowed, but made no answer. She blushed deeply that the Count still held her hand, but she did not withdraw it. “And now, my Lord Archbishop, that this long-held contention is amicably adjusted,” began Von Hochstaden, “I crave that you bestow on us two your gracious blessing, potentate of the Church, for this lady is to be my wife.” “What!” cried Brunhilda in sudden anger, snatching her hand from his, “do you think you can carry me by storm as you did my castle, without even asking my consent?” “Lady of my heart,” said Konrad tenderly, “I did ask your consent. My eyes questioned in the Rittersaal and yours gave kindly answer. Is there then no language but that which is spoken? I offer you here before the world my open hand; is it to remain empty?” He stood before her with outstretched palm, and she gazed steadfastly at him, breathing quickly. At length a smile dissolved the sternness of her charming lips, she glanced at his extended hand and said: “‘Twere a pity so firm and generous a hand should remain tenantless,” and with that she placed her palm in his. The Archbishop smiled grimly at this lovers’ by-play, then solemnly, with upraised hands, invoked God’s blessing upon them. THE LONG LADDER Every fortress has one traitor within its walls; the Schloss Eltz had two. In this, curiously enough, lay its salvation; for as some Eastern poisons when mixed neutralise each other and form combined a harmless fluid, so did the two traitors unwittingly react, the one upon the other, to the lasting glory of Schloss Eltz, which has never been captured to this day.