The coachman stopped.
"It is impossible, most gracious master," he said; "we can no longer go over the bridge."
The Sovereign jumped up in the carriage, and raised his stick against the coachman. The man, frightened, whipped his horses; they reared and sprang off to one side.
"Stop!" cried the High Steward.
The frightened lackeys readily jumped down, and held the horses. The High Steward opened the carriage door, and scrambled out.
"I beseech your Highness to alight."
The Sovereign sprang out, and, casting a look of vindictive hatred at him, hastened forward on foot. He stepped on the bridge, and the flood roared around him.
"Stay back, father," entreated the Hereditary Prince.
The father laughed, and advanced over the tottering planks; he had passed over the middle of the bridge and the deepest part of the stream; only a few steps more and his foot would touch the shore of Bielstein. At that moment there rose up near the bridge a bent figure, that cried out wildly to him:
"Welcome to our country, Gracious Lord; mercy for the poor beggar-woman. I bring you greeting from the fair-haired lady of the rock."