"'How could I prove it better, than through my imprisoned friends?' said the King. 'If they could see me, thou wouldst soon be convinced that I have spoken truth.'
"'Then I will beg my father to let them out,' said the princess. 'But who will prevent their escape?'
"'I will look to that,' replied he.
"Then, the Emperor's daughter kissed the hero, and he left her chamber in all honour, and returned to his house, his heart full of deep joy.
"At the first dawn of the next day, the princess took a staff and put on a black mourning dress, with the pilgrim's badge on her shoulders, as if she wanted to leave the land, and her face was very pale and sad. Thus, she knocked at the Emperor's door and artfully said: 'My dear father! Though still alive, I am yet suffering great torments. I feel very miserable, and who will comfort me? In my dreams, the imprisoned messengers of King Rother have appeared to me, and they look pale and worn, and leave me no peace. So I must go to escape from them, if you will not at least let me comfort the miserable men, with good food, wine and a bath. Let them come out of their prison, if it were only for three days.'
"Then the Emperor made answer. 'This will I grant thee, if thou wilt find me security, that they return to their prison on the third day.'
"At the usual hour for supper, the so-called Sir Dietrich with his knights also came to the Emperor's hall, and when the repast was over, and everyone was washing his hands, the princess walked round the tables, as if she wanted to choose someone among the number of rich dukes and noble lords, who would stand bail. When she came to Dietrich she said: 'Now it is time that thou shouldst help me. Stand bail for thy messengers with thy life.'
"Then he replied: 'I will be surety, most beautiful maiden.' And he pledged his head to the Emperor, who sent out some men to open the prison-gate. The wretched messengers were by this time reduced to a state of great weakness. When the doors were opened, the clear daylight shone in, and dazzled the unfortunate men, who had grown unused to it. Then they took the twelve counts, and made them go out. Each one was followed by a knight. They could scarcely walk. Lupolt their leader, again walked at their head. He wore a torn apron round his loins; his beard was long and shaggy, and his body was covered with sores. Sir Dietrich was overwhelmed with sadness, and he turned his head away, that they might not recognize him; and he could scarcely repress the rising tears, which the pitiful sight called forth. He then had them all brought to his house, where everything was got ready for their reception, and the counts said to each other, 'who was he, who stood aside? He is surely befriending us.' And they, with their hearts full of old grief, laughed with a new joy; but they did not recognize him.
"On the following day, the Emperor's daughter invited the sorely-tried men to court, presented them with good, new garments, ordered a warm bath to be prepared for them, and had a table spread for a sumptuous repast. As soon as the noblemen were seated around it, forgetting their woe for a moment, Sir Dietrich took his harp, and hiding himself behind a curtain, touched the strings and played one of the melodies which he had before played on the seashore.
"Lupolt, who had raised the cup to his lips, let it fall, so that the wine was all spilt over the table; and another who was cutting bread, dropped his knife, and all listened wondering. Louder and clearer their king's song was heard, and then Lupolt jumped across the table, and all the counts and knights followed him, as if something of their old strength had suddenly returned, and they tore down the curtain, and kissed the harper, and knelt before him, and the joy was indescribable.