Praxedis looked up at her mistress. "I have never yet looked at a monk, to see whether he were handsome."
"Why not?"
"Because I thought it quite unnecessary."
"Thou givest queer answers to-day," said Dame Hadwig, getting up from her seat. She stepped to the window and looked out northwards; where from the dark fir-trees rose the heavy mass of the steep, rocky Hohenkrähen.
"The goat-boy has just been here, and has told some of the men to go over," said Praxedis.
"The afternoon is mild and sunny," observed the Duchess. "Tell them to saddle the horses and we will ride over, and see what they are doing. Ah--I forgot that thou complainedst of the fatigue of riding, when we returned from St. Gallus. So I will go there alone ..."
Ekkehard meanwhile had inspected the scene of the nightly revel, of which but few traces remained. The earth around the oak-tree was still wet and reddish looking, and a few coals and ashes indicated where the fire had been.
With astonishment he beheld here and there, hanging in the branches of the oak, small wax effigies of human limbs. There were feet and hands, as well as images of cows and horses,--offerings for the recovery of sick men and beasts, which the superstitious peasantry, preferred hanging up on old consecrated trees, to placing them on the altars of churches.
Two men, with hatchets, now came up.
"We have been ordered to come here," they said.