"The queen!--see, the queen!" he heard the curious spectators whisper to one another.
"It is the duke she is dancing with," said one.
"Nay, that it is not: it is the handsome young Drost Hessel. Look, how proud he dances! Lofty thoughts he has, you may trow," exclaimed another.
"Come, noble count," said Drost Peter, hastily, "let us not get into the crowd, with our unruly horses. We are now close to my dwelling."
They rode on a little way, and stopped at a dark-looking house, where, on the high stone steps, stood a squire, bearing a torch.
"You are arrived at last, sir," cried Claus Skirmen, springing towards him with the torch. "Has any mischance befallen you? I ventured not to disobey your commands by leaving the house myself; but I have sent all the servants out in search of you."
"We have had a little encounter with a pair of hasty young knights on our way," said Drost Peter, "and my noble guest has been somewhat severely wounded. Assist him carefully from his horse. Is all in order?"
"As you have commanded, sir. But are you not also wounded? Shall I bring a surgeon?"
"That is unnecessary, so long as you and I are here. We would have no talk about the matter. Attend only to the count."
Not without wincing and sundry oaths did the wounded Count Gerhard dismount from his horse, and ascend the high stone steps, where his two knights and the lanky jester received him with sympathising attentions.