So the party regained the castle, where Von Steinberg and Julia were anxiously awaiting their return.
When Adelaide had been carefully attended to, Rudolph sought his uncle and guests in the great hall.
"Miss Julia Von Steinberg," said the soldier, "since confessions are the order of the night, I must place mine on record. I met you to-day in obedience to orders, believing my heart was my own. The event of to-night has told me too truly that I had unconsciously lost it. But I am a man of honor, and if you will accept my hand without my heart, it is yours."
"Captain Ernstein," replied the beauty, "I thank you for your frank confession. I cannot possibly accept your hand without your heart. Nay—do not frown, father—I have a secret for your ear, and if you do not wish to wreck your daughter's happiness, you will urge me no further."
Von Steinberg frowned, and pshawed, and pished, and then, clearing his voice, addressed the baron.
"Come, Von Rosenberg," said he, "confess that we have been acting like a couple of old fools, in trying our hand at match making—it is a business for the young people themselves, and not for old soldiers like us. Say, shall we reduce the mutineers to obedience, or shall we let them have it their own way?"
"Circumstances alter cases," answered the baron. "When I proposed for Julia's hand, I didn't know my wife had a daughter to marry. And if that were not the case, I am inclined to think the secret alluded to by the young lady, would prove an insuperable obstacle to the ratification of our treaty."
This secret was no other than a love affair between the fair Julia and a certain count who had waltzed with her at the baths of Baden-Baden, the preceding summer. We are glad to say that the flirtation thus happily commenced ended in matrimony. As for Rudolph, he was shortly after united to the fair Adelaide, on which occasion the baron gave such a rouse as the old towers of Von Rosenberg had not known since the rollicking days of its first feudal masters. It was illuminated at every window and loophole, so that the waters of the Rhine rolled beneath it a sea of fire, or as if their channels were overflowed with generous Asmanshausen; and the old butler discharged his swivel so many times that he had to be taken down from the battlements and drenched with Rhenish to preserve his life.
Thus ended all that is worthy commemorating in the modern history of the Castle on the Rhine.