"You astonish me, Count Gerhard!" exclaimed Drost Peter. "Do you believe probable what I have long feared might be possible? And think you the queen--"
"Of her I think nothing but what is good and fair and excellent," interrupted the count, with much ardour. "But however prudent she may be, still she may err. Why should not she, too, be dazzled by a glittering exterior? Were the handsome, well-spoken duke a squat, one-eyed widower like myself, and a lout at talking with women, perhaps it were better for all of us."
They continued their route thoughtfully and in silence. The usually lively count, with his eye and some of his corpulence, seemed also to have lost a part of his even, contented disposition. The loss of his eye, however, did not disfigure him, but rather added to his martial and somewhat heroic appearance; and the tinge of secret melancholy, that blended at times with his good-natured jests, rendered the brave and sturdy lord yet more amiable.
Drost Peter became so absorbed in his own thoughts, that the conversation was not resumed. The image of Jomfru Ingé often cast its radiance over his dark and gloomy pictures of the future. In every cloud of dust he descried on the road, he imagined he caught a glimpse of her travelling-car; and would then spur forward his steed so rapidly, that the count and his followers had some difficulty in keeping pace with him. But his hopes were invariably disappointed. Frequently it was but a drove of oxen or a troop of horses he had seen, and which, by blocking up the road, would intercept him in his impatient career.
They had ridden more than seven miles across the Sleswick border, and the sun was not yet high in the heavens, when they caught sight of the proud Œrnsborg, or Kolding House, as it was already called. The castle was situated on a rising ground above the sea, on the other side of the river Kolding; and, as it came in view, the drost's war-steed neighed, and sprang lightly forward at his master's bidding.
"But why, in the name of Beelzebub, ride we in such a hurry?" impatiently inquired Count Gerhard, puffing. "It is yet eight days to the Dane-court; and if we reach Nyborg tomorrow, we shall be time enough."
Drost Peter blushed. "I am commanded to make haste," he replied. "The wind is fair, but the passage here is longer and more difficult than by Snoghoi."
"Pokker, then! why do you not cross from Snoghoi?" asked the count. "Yet true," he added, a little crabbedly, "you would fain see your heart's dear again."
"How know you that, Count Gerhard?" demanded the drost, with some surprise and bashfulness.
"Why, every man in the country knows that," replied his companion. "The proud Œrnsborg[[37]] yonder is Drost Peter Hessel's favourite castle; and the eagle on a hill, with its wings displayed, stands on your seal with as much propriety as it does in the town-arms. Here it was you earned your first laurels against Duke Erik; and we have long known that in Œrnsborg you hold the gate and key of the kingdom against both myself and the Duke of South Jutland."