The scrivener, meanwhile, stood with radiant countenance under the vine-leaves and blooming honeysuckle in the garden, looking at the withered red leaves, which autumn had shaken from the trees, and then he gazed downwards into the soft-flowing Danube, and in his right ear he heard a loud ringing sound,--for at that very moment, Ekkehard had filled a wooden cup with wine, and spoken thus to the old herdsman: "I once had a good comrade, for a better one cannot be found anywhere, and his name is Conrad. The love of women, and worldly ambition are all nought, but I shall ever remain the debtor of old and faithful friendship, unto my last dying day. So you must now drink his health with me, and I tell you, he is a man who would please the old Säntis well, if he were here."
And the herdsman had emptied the cup and had said: "Mountain-brother, I believe you. Long life to him!"
Therefore the man at Passau had felt his ear tingling; but he did not know the reason thereof. The sound had not yet died out, when the Bishop came towards him, and he was followed by a groom who led a white little mare, which was old and shabby; and when one looked at it closer, one could see that it was blind on one eye. And the Bishop nodded his head with the pointed mitre and graciously said: "Master Conrad, that what you have written to please my nephews, shall not be without its reward. My tried battle-horse is yours!"
A faint, half melancholy smile played round Master Conrad's finely cut lips, whilst he thought: "Well, it serves me but right. Why did I become a poet!"--But aloud, he said: "May God reward you Sir Bishop! I hope that you will grant me a few days leave, to rest myself from my work."
Then he caressed the poor old horse, and mounted it without waiting for the answer. And he sat both proudly and gracefully in the saddle, and even persuaded his humble charger to fall into a tolerable canter, so that he soon disappeared.
"I would wager my best falcon against a pair of turtle-doves," said the elder of the two boys, "if he is not again riding to Bechelaren to the markgravian castle. He has said many a time, 'quite as well as I can bring my gracious master the Bishop into the song, I can also in it erect a memorial to the margravine Gotelinde and her fair daughter. They, after all, will appreciate it most.'"
Meanwhile, Master Conrad had already passed out of the gate of the Bishop's town. Casting a longing look into the distance, he began to sing with a clear voice:
"Then boldly spoke the minstrel, his voice rang through the air:
Oh margrave, noble margrave, God gave thee blessing rare
In giving thee so fair a spouse, and true as she is fair.
And if I only were a king, and reigned o'er land and sea,
To make thy daughter my dear queen, my only wish would be.
For ne'er a maid more beautiful." ...
... but when he had got so far, a cloud of dust was blown right into his face, so that involuntary tears started into his eyes, and his singing was stopped.
The lines were out of the work, for which the Bishop had just now rewarded him. It was an epic in the German tongue, and was called, "The song of the Nibelungen!"