“This, Sire,” she said, “is the child of your old friend Von Hofenhoer, and sometime ward of our baron, who, I fear, is ill prepared to make accounting of his stewardship. But why she is here I know not yet, save that Sister Stanislaus tells me that she was brought here a refugee from the castle by the grandson of old Karl of the forge—he of whom you were asking but now.”
The emperor was a tall, lean man, with eagle-like visage, clean-shaven and stern. His long, straight hair fell down on either side of his gaunt face, and his eyes were bright and keen. He was plainly, almost meanly dressed. Nevertheless, he was of right kingly aspect, and, moreover, despite his stern looks, he smiled kindly as he placed a hand on Elise’s bowed head.
“Thy father was my good comrade, child,” he said, “and sorry am I to see his daughter in such a plight; but thou shalt tell us about it presently, and we shall see what is to be done.”
The lay sister returned, bearing some wine and a plate of biscuits; and seating her in an arm-chair, the mother superior bade Elise partake of these, which she did gladly. When she had finished, the two dignitaries, who were own cousins and old friends, drew from her, little by little, the story of her flight from the castle, and of her reasons therefor.
As the emperor listened he paced up and down the little stone-floored room, now frowning sternly, now softening a bit as he looked upon the fair young maiden, so spent with fear and hardship.
“This is bad work, Mother Ursula,” he said at last, “and well is it that we have come to clean out the jackal’s nest. But this boy Wulf whom she speaks of—he would be here yet. Him I would see—and our good old Karl; would he were here now!”
So Wulf was summoned before the great emperor, and came with swift-beating heart. Brought face to face with Rudolf, he fell upon one knee, cap in hand, and waited the monarch’s will.
When the latter spoke it was with great kindliness; for well was he pleased with the goodly-looking youth.
“Thou mayst rise,” he said, when he had glanced keenly over the kneeling figure. “And so thou’rt my old friend Karl’s grandson. If there’s aught in blood, thou shouldst be an honest man and a brave; for truer nor braver man ever lived, and well knows Rudolf of Hapsburg that.”
A thousand thoughts and impulses surged through Wulf’s brain while the emperor spoke, but the moment seemed none for speech other than that with which he finally contented himself, saying simply: