"Look!" cried the groom, as they stood on the top of a lofty hill. The palmer could scarcely repress an inclination to throttle his imprudent friend; for as the Lady Margaret turned her head, she saw a column of smoke and flame curling up, as if it warred against the skies.
"It is my father's castle!" she said. "Oh, what has become of those we left?" she added shuddering. "Let us trust in God!" murmured the palmer. Brighter and brighter grew the flame—higher and higher rose the lurid column. Still the Lady Margaret continued to gaze on the fiery pillar. At last the light suddenly expanded and burned awhile with intense brilliancy. It was but for a moment. Dimmer and dimmer grew the flame, and darkness soon settled over the ashes of Stramen Castle.
The palmer now placed the maiden upon the third horse, and led the way with his hand upon her bridle. Two hours more brought them to the fortress of Tübingen, where the brave Count Montfort, though refusing to join Rodolph, had designed to hold out to the last against his perjured and sacrilegious rival. The palmer demanded admittance in the name of Albert of Hers, and instantly obtained it.
The generous countess received the daughter of Stramen with open arms, and the count swore first to protect and then to avenge her. Nor was the palmer forgotten. Despite his ridiculous costume, now soiled and torn and stained with blood, he exhibited no embarrassment when ushered into the presence of the noble group.
"The Lady Margaret would know her deliverer," said the countess.
The palmer removed his head-piece and threw back his hood.
"Do you remember me, my lady?" he asked, with a smile.
The maiden looked as one striving to recall a dream.
"Do you remember Ailred of Zurich, the minnesinger?"
Her cheek turned scarlet as she exclaimed, "Oh I how much I owe to you!"