"When the Duchess speaks to thee, mind to be very polite," said Ekkehard. But he replied with a complacent air: "with such a grand lady, I shall only speak in verse. She shall see that a pupil from the inner school stands before her."
Here, the Duchess entered, followed by Praxedis. She greeted Ekkehard with a slight bend of the head. Without appearing to notice the boy, she sat down in her richly carved arm-chair. Burkhard had made her a graceful bow, from the lower end of the table, where he stood.
Ekkehard opened the book, when the Duchess said indifferently: "Why is that boy here?"
"He is but a humble auditor," said Ekkehard, "who, inspired by the wish to learn the Greek language, ventures to approach such a noble teacher. He would be very happy, if from your lips he could learn ..."
But before Ekkehard had ended his speech, Burkhard had approached the Duchess. With eyes cast down, and a mixture of shyness and confidence, he said with a clear intonation of the rhythm:
"Esse velim Graecus, cum vix sim, dom'na[[1]], Latinus."
It was a faultless hexametre.
Dame Hadwig listened with astonishment; for a curly-headed boy, who could make an hexametre, was an unheard-of thing in the Allemannic lands then. And moreover he had improvised it in her honour. Therefore she was really pleased with the youthful verse-maker.
"Let me look at thee a little nearer," said she drawing him towards her. She was charmed with him, for he had a lovely boyish face, with a red and white complexion, so soft and transparent, that the blue veins could be seen through it.
In luxuriant masses, the brown curls fell down over his temples, whilst a bold, aquiline nose rose over the learned youthful lips, as if it were mocking their utterance. Then, Dame Hadwig put her arms round the boy, and kissing him on both lips and cheeks, fondled him like a child almost, and finally pushing a cushioned footstool close to her side, bade him sit down on it.