"It is time, for us to go in," proudly said the Duchess. "The cool night-air produces fever."
She walked past Ekkehard with a disdainful look. Burkhard again carried her train, whilst Ekkehard stood there immovably.
The chamberlain patted, him on the shoulder. "The dark moth was a poor fool, Master Chaplain!" said he compassionately.
A sudden gust of wind, here put out the lights. "It was a monk," said Ekkehard indifferently, "sleep well!"
CHAPTER XXI.
[Rejection and Flight.]
Ekkehard had remained sitting in the bower for a long time after the others had gone away, and when at last he also rose, he rushed out into the darkness. He did not know whither his feet were carrying him. In the morning he found himself on the top of the Hohenkrähen, which was silent and deserted since the woman of the wood had left it. The remains of the burnt hut, formed now but a confused mass. On the place where the sitting-room had once been, was still the Roman stone with the Mithras. Grass and ferns were growing on it, and a slow-worm was stealthily creeping up on the old weatherbeaten idol.
Ekkehard burst into a wild laugh. "The chapel of St. Hadwig!" he cried, striking his breast, with his clenched hand. "Thus, it must be!" He upset the old Roman stone, and then mounted the rock on the top of the hill. There, he threw himself down, pressing his forehead against the cool ground, which had once been touched by Dame Hadwig's foot. Thus, he remained for a long time. When the scorching rays of the mid-day sun were falling vertically down, he still lay there, and--slept.
Towards the evening he came back to the Hohentwiel, looking hot and excited, and having an unsteady gait. Blades of grass clung to the woolen texture of his habit.
The inhabitants of the castle, shyly stepped out of his way, as if ill-luck had set her seal on his forehead. In other times they used to come towards him, to entreat his blessing.