“No, lady, I thank the barons both, but it were sin in me,” said Christina, with trembling voice.
“Look you,” said Eberhard; “we have the full right—’tis a seignorial right—to all the goods of every wayfarer that may be overthrown in our river—as I am a true knight!” he added earnestly.
“A true knight!” repeated Christina, pushed hard, and very indignant in all her terror. “The true knight’s part is to aid, not rob, the weak.” And the dark eyes flashed a vivid light.
“Christina!” exclaimed Ermentrude in the extremity of her amazement, “know you what you have said?—that Eberhard is no true knight!”
He meanwhile stood silent, utterly taken by surprise, and letting his little sister fight his battles.
“I cannot help it, Lady Ermentrude,” said Christina, with trembling lips, and eyes filling with tears. “You may drive me from the castle—I only long to be away from it; but I cannot stain my soul by saying that spoil and rapine are the deeds of a true knight.”
“My mother will beat you,” cried Ermentrude, passionately, ready to fly to the head of the stairs; but her brother laid his hand upon her.
“Tush, Trudchen; keep thy tongue still, child! What does it hurt me?”
And he turned on his heels and went down stairs. Christina crept into her turret, weeping bitterly and with many a wild thought. Would they visit her offence on her father? Would they turn them both out together? If so, would not her father hurl her down the rocks rather than return her to Ulm? Could she escape? Climb down the dizzy rocks, it might be, succour the merchant lying half dead on the meadows, protect and be protected, be once more among God-fearing Christians? And as she felt her helplessness, the selfish thoughts passed into a gush of tears for the murdered man, lying suffering there, and for his possible wife and children watching for him. Presently Ermentrude peeped in.
“Stina, Stina, don’t cry; I will not tell my mother! Come out, and finish my kerchief! Come out! No one shall beat you.”