"Are you so very certain of this?" asked she pointedly.
The Hun did not understand much of the conversation. His wounded foot hurt him, but he did not dare to sit down. Praxedis addressed him in Greek, but he shyly shook his head. Then she tried to get up an understanding, by dint of signs and nods,--but this too was in vain. "Allow me," said she to the Duchess, "I still know of a way, to make him give us a sign of life, which I have heard of at Constantinople." Gliding out of the hall, she presently returned, carrying a cup, which she presented with mock deference to the dumb prisoner. It was a strong liquor, distilled from cherries and stone-fruit; such as the late castle-chaplain had loved to concoct now and then. At the sight of this, the Hun's face became radiant; his blunt nose, sniffed up the rising aroma, and emptying the cup, which he evidently regarded as a sign of peace, he threw himself down with crossed arms before Praxedis, and kissed her shoe.
She made him a sign that the homage was due to the Duchess, upon which he wanted to repeat his thanks to her; but Dame Hadwig stepped back, and beckoned to Master Spazzo, to take his prisoner away again.
"You have queer fancies," said she to him, when he had returned, "however, it was gallant of you, to think of me, even in battle."
Meanwhile, Ekkehard had been silently sitting at the window, looking out over the country. Master Spazzo's ways annoyed him, and even Praxedis's jokes, had hurt his feelings. "In order to humiliate us," thought he, "the Lord has sent over the children of the desert, to be a warning to us, and to teach us, even on the ruins of that which is perishable, to think of that which is eternal;--the earth which covers the bodies of the slain is still fresh, and those left behind are already jesting, as if all had been but an empty dream." ...
Praxedis had approached him, and now playfully said: "Why did not you likewise bring home some keepsake from the battle, Professor? A wonderful, Hunnic amazon is said to have skirmished about there, and if you had caught her, we should now have a nice pair of them."
"Ekkehard had to think of higher things than Hunnic women," said the Duchess bitterly, "and he knows how to be silent, as one who has taken a vow for that purpose. Why should we need to know, how he fared in battle!"
This cutting speech, deeply wounded the serious-minded man. A jest at the wrong moment, falls like vinegar on honey-dew. Silently he walked out to fetch Sir Burkhard's sword, and drawing it out of the scabbard, he laid it on the table before the Duchess. Fresh, red spots were still glistening on the noble blade, and the edge showed many a new notch, here and there. "Whether the schoolmaster was idle all the time, this sword may bear witness! I have not made my tongue the herald of my deeds!"
The Duchess was startled. She still bore him a grudge in her heart, and she was sorely tempted, to give it vent, in an angry outburst. But the sword of Sir Burkhard called up manifold thoughts. So, restraining her passion, she held out her hand to Ekkehard. "I did not wish to offend you," said she.
The mildness of her voice was like a reproach to him, and he hesitated to take the proffered hand. He almost wanted to ask her pardon for his roughness, but the words clove to his tongue,--and at that moment, the door opened, and he was spared the rest.