“You shall make the singer’s acquaintance,” said Maria, motioning towards the young girl. “Fraulein Henrica Van Hoogstraten, a beloved guest in our house.”
“Were you the songstress?” asked Georg.
“Does that surprise you?” replied Henrica. “My voice has certainly retained its strength better than my body, wasted by long continued suffering. I feel how deeply my eyes are sunken and how pale I must be. Singing certainly lightens pain, and I have been deprived of the comforter long enough. Not a note has passed my lips for weeks, and now my heart aches so, that I would far rather weep than sing. ‘What troubles me?’ you will ask, and yet Maria gives me courage to request a chivalrous service, almost without parallel, at your hands.”
“Speak, speak,” Georg eagerly exclaimed. “If Frau Maria summons me and I can serve you, dear lady: here I am, dispose of me.”
Henrica did not avoid his frank glance, as she replied:
“First hear what a great service we ask of you. You must prepare yourself to hear a short story. I am still weak and have put my strength to a severe test to-day, Maria must speak for me.”
The young wife fulfilled this task quietly and clearly, closing with the words:
“The messenger we need, I have found myself. You must be he, Junker Georg.”
Henrica had not interrupted the burgomaster’s wife; but now said warmly
“I have only made your acquaintance to-day, but I trust you entirely. A few hours ago, black would have been my color, but if you will be my knight, I’ll choose cheerful green, for I now begin to hope again. Will you venture to take the ride for me?”