Burkhard rose from the stool, and stood blushingly before her.
"So," said she, "now go to Praxedis and tell her that as a punishment, all thy grey hairs are to be cut off, and beg her to do it for you. That will be a good cure for untimely laughter."
The boy's eyes filled with big tears, but he dared not disobey. So he went up to Praxedis, who had some sympathy for him, since she had heard that he had been Romeias' companion, during his last hours.
"I shall not hurt thee, my little saint," she whispered drawing him towards her. He knelt down before her, bending his young head over her lap, whilst she took a big pair of scissors out of her straw-braided work-basket, and executed the punishment.
At first, the cloister-pupil's sobs, sounded dolefully,--for he who allowed a strange hand to touch his locks, was considered to be deeply dishonoured,--but Praxedis's soft little hand caressingly patted his cheeks, after having ruffled his curls, so that, in spite of all punishment, he felt almost happy and his mouth smilingly caught up the last falling tear.
Ekkehard looked down silently for a while. Frivolous, though graceful jesting, makes a sad heart but sadder. He was hurt that the Duchess had thus interrupted his reading. Looking up into her eyes, he found no comfort there. "She trifles with thee, as well as she trifles with the boy," thought he, closing the book and rising from his seat.
"You are right," said he to Dame Hadwig, "'tis all wrong. Dido ought to laugh, and Æneas to go and kill himself with his sword. Then, it would be quite natural."
She gazed at him with an unsteady look. "What is the matter with you?" asked she.
"I cannot read any more," replied he.
The Duchess had risen also.