Count Henry's journey was long and tedious. He halted in every locality which seemed to offer any attraction, and even remained nearly three weeks at Chanbery. But these delays were prompted by political reasons, and many couriers came and went between the Count and the Courts of Germany and France. He also visited several of the principal towns of Italy, and his frequent interviews with the Pisan and Genoese envoys presaged the conclusion of an offensive and defensive alliance between these maritime republics and France and the Emperor. Although the Count regretted this forced seclusion of his daughter, the fair Richenza scarcely seemed to regret her monotonous existence. On the contrary, accustomed to excite universal admiration in the gay and brilliant French Court, the ceremonious politeness of the young German noble amused her. It was in vain that, to further her father's projects, she treated him with marked distinction; he remained always the same, perfectly courteous, but cold and reserved. At last the young Countess got piqued, but Erwin cared little for this; he had been warned by the Unknown of the Emperor's designs, and he was on his guard. Still, this constant struggle between duty and temptation rendered his position a painful one, and he regretted a hundred times his acceptance of the mission in which he was now engaged.
One day, in the midst of a profound revery, he heard a light rap at the door of his apartment.
"Come in!" he cried.
A veiled woman entered, but although she remained covered, Rechberg recognized her as one of the attendants of the unknown lady whom Antonio had intrusted to his care. Our hero was ignorant of her rank and position, for he had never seen her face; and she always remained in her tent, or else was so deeply veiled that he could neither distinguish her features nor even the sound of her voice. He often rode by her side, less through curiosity than as a chivalrous duty; still it was impossible to penetrate the mystery which enveloped her, and one thing alone was evident, that she was the victim of some crushing misfortune.
Now at last, the lady had sent to request his visit, and Rechberg followed the messenger through many tortuous streets to a house which seemed chosen with an especial view to retirement and melancholy, and it was not without emotion that Erwin entered the apartment, where, surrounded by her attendants, the lady was reclining upon a divan. Upon his entrance, she rose and advanced a step to reply to his courteous bow, and then motioned him to a seat. There was a long silence, during which Erwin looked attentively at the lady, whose stature and dignified deportment announced to be of high position.
"Count," she said, in a calm, sweet voice, "first let me thank you for the kind protection which you have given to a very wretched woman. Pardon me, if I have been compelled, by circumstances, to conceal my name and character; but I still need your aid, and I trust that, though unknown, I may count upon it."
"I have merely discharged the duties imposed by the laws of chivalry," replied Erwin; "I am always ready to serve you."
"Thank you, my lord. You probably know that His Holiness the Pope Alexander III. has taken refuge in France, and is at present in a monastery on the frontiers of the Empire, not for from Laon. It is there, near to the Father of the faithful, the support of the afflicted and the unhappy, that I am now going."
She paused for a reply, and it seemed to Erwin that her voice was familiar, and that he had already heard it at the Court.
"I now learn," she resumed, "that the Holy Father, through fear for his personal safety on account of the alliance between France and the Emperor, intends to go to England. Should he do so, I shall lose this opportunity of laying my sorrows at the feet of the Vicar of Jesus Christ. To be so near the only person who can aid me in my misfortunes, and yet not see him, will be an additional trial. You, Count, can relieve my unhappiness by consenting to accompany me to Laon."