Albrecht

by Arlo Bates

It was hardly a proof of the vanity of the count that he believed that his cousin, as he continually called her, making of the relationship a pretext for many little familiarities which, albeit they were harmless enough, caused the eyes of Albrecht to glow with jealous rage, felt the attraction which their natures had for each other. She showed her liking by tokens which though they were slight were unmistakable; and Count Stephen, who had had not a little experience in love affairs, smiled to himself as he reflected upon the faint pressure of the hand, the half averted-glance, the almost unheard sigh which he had from time to time won from Erna.

It was quite in keeping with the count's cleverness that he had not failed to perceive that the sympathy between Erna and her husband was becoming fainter. It was evident that every day they found themselves less wholly one. More and more did the baron give himself up to pious studies, while Erna was thus more and more thrown into the company of Von Rittenberg. Count Stephen had secretly a profound contempt for his host, the idea of piety and that of study being alike ridiculous in his mind. He admired Albrecht's skill in hunting, his strength, and his superb figure, but he was never able to look upon the studies which had become the chief interest of Albrecht's daily life as other than a subject for jest and ridicule. It is true that he had learned that Erna resented his jests upon this theme, but he was acute enough to observe that her anger was turned quite as much toward her husband for giving occasion for them as at her guest for daring to make them. He found in the Lady Adelaide an ally, since that worldly old dame liked the ways of Albrecht no more than did Erna; and the fact that the great-aunt was really very fond of Albrecht only made her the more irritated at his course. She joined with Count Stephen, and often the quip which he left half spoken was taken up and put into words by Lady Adelaide, while Erna frowned and bit her lips with vexation.

"Good sooth," he said one morning, as he sat with Erna, who was working a tapestry in which with cunning skill she was depicting those wars of Charlemagne in which her father had led the Swabian guard of which the emperor had been so proud, "thy husband should to court. The king is marvellously well disposed toward learning. Thou knowest he hath forgiven the offence of Eginhard, the clerk, and wed him to the fair Emma, his own daughter."

"And what," asked Lady Adelaide, whose bright old eyes were also watching her needle over the tapestry, "was the offence of Eginhard?"

"It is a fair tale," responded he, laughing. "It made much scandal. This Eginhard is a man that hath hot blood though he be clerkly, and too hath he good trim limbs and a winning eye. That he should dare to raise his glance so high as the daughter of the king might move one to wonder, but it was not so strange that she should smile upon him when he had done so, for he might well stir a maiden's fancy. They were secret in their loves, but not for the fear of the displeasure of even the king, her father, could they restrain the fury of their passion, and one night did Eginhard steal to the chamber of the princess, there to enjoy the fruits of his wooing without more delay, or the form of a priest's blessing."

"Body of Saint Fridolin!" exclaimed Lady Adelaide; "and she a king's daughter!"

"The night wasted," continued the count, "without that they found it over-long, I trow; and before they were aware, the dawn began to appear. Then Eginhard would fain have gone the way he came, across the court, but the heavens had betrayed them. The snow had fallen and covered the ground so that he could not step without leaving the trace."

"Body of Saint Fridolin!" cried Lady Adelaide, again; "that was the judgment of Heaven upon her for betraying the honor of the king."

"Even if it were," Count Stephen rejoined, "the Princess Emma is not one to be lightly daunted, even by the judgments of Heaven. She was well aware what would befall her lover if the track of his footsteps were found leading from her window, but she trusted that her royal father, who has not been able to rein in his own blood over well, might be moved to forgive her, if it appeared that the transgression had been hers, and that she had sought her lover's chamber."

"It is ever the woman who sacrifices herself to the man," muttered Lady Adelaide. Erna still listened to the tale in silence, while her cousin watched her with penetrating gaze.