"Mention his name no more," said an aged knight, "the duke's rage was kindled, and he thought to punish you through him."
Hot scorn flushed the face of the old hero when he heard these words; grief and fury took possession of him, and he rode through the castle-gates with speed. All opened a way for him with fear and reverence; and he soon threw himself from his horse at the palace-doors. With trembling step he mounted into the marble halls.
"Am I here," he cried, "in the dwelling of the man who was once my friend?" He tried to collect his thoughts; but dreadful visions seemed to rise before him: and he staggered wildly into the duke's presence.
Not aware of his arrival, Burgundy uttered a cry of alarm, as he found himself confronted with the old man. "Art thou the Duke of Burgundy?" asked the old hero.
The duke replied, "I am."
"And hast thou caused my son Dietrich to die?"
The duke answered, "Yes."
"And my youngest boy! my Conrad!—was not he too good and beautiful for thy sword?—hast thou killed him too?"
"I have," said the duke again.
And Eckart replied, as he shed tears, "Oh, say not that! say not that, Burgundy!—for I cannot bear those words: recall them. Say, at least, that it repents you of all you have done; and I will yet try to take comfort, though you have now done your worst to break my heart."