It was Tekla's first visit to the tall tower and she looked upon the marvellous scene spread before her with keen and enthusiastic appreciation. The sun had risen and the morning was already warm, but the skilful Surrey had spread an awning from flag pole to parapet, which shielded the table from its rays. The elder lady seated herself on one of the stools, and paid no attention to the view, awaiting with evident apprehension the coming of her husband. Tekla passed from point to point in the circle of the parapet and exclaimed joyously as the beauties of the landscape unfolded themselves to her. The deep, sombre, densely wooded chasm of the brawling little river Thaurand, from which in three variants, the castle took the several names that designated it, she had never until this moment beheld; the more familiar valley of the Moselle revealed new aspects at this height, not noticeable from the lower level of the battlements. Rodolph accompanied her and pointed out this and that, having himself eyes for nothing but the delighted and delightful girl, and thus, telling the archer to summon the Count, he paid no attention to Surrey's method of doing so, which might not have met his approval. The Count was standing at the edge of the battlements gazing abstractedly down upon the village of Alken, his arms folded across his breast and his back towards the tower. The bowman deftly notched an arrow on the string and let fly with such precision that its feather must have brushed the Count's ear. The amazed and startled man automatically smote the air and his ear with his open hand as if a bee had stung him, and sprang several yards from where he had been standing, glaring angrily round, wondering whence the missile had so unexpectedly come.
"My Lord," said the archer, deferentially, leaning over the stone coping and motioning with his bow, "breakfast is ready."
For a moment the Count stood as one transfixed, then a reluctant smile made itself visible through his thick beard, and he strode along the promenade, disappearing down the steps.
A few moments later he was on the platform of the tower, visibly ill at ease. His eyes were on his niece, seemingly in doubt regarding the nature of her reception of him. The girl on hearing his steps had turned away from the parapet, and now stood somewhat rigidly with heightened colour, waiting for him to approach her.
"Tekla," he began, but she quietly interrupted him, saying:
"When you have greeted my aunt, I shall be glad to receive your salutations."
Heinrich was taken aback at this. He had not thought of looking at his wife, but now he glanced at her shrinking form cowering on the stool. He took a step forward, and placed his hand roughly on her shoulder.
"Wife—" he said, and paused, not knowing what to add, until sudden inspiration seemed to come to him, and he cried, masterfully: "We are surrounded by enemies, but we will beat them off, damn them!"
"Yes, my Lord," whispered his spouse, meekly, trembling under his heavy hand. Tekla laughed merrily, and sprang forward to him, flinging her arms about him, to his great embarrassment.
"You great Swartzwald bear!" she cried, "of course you will beat them. I am sure no one can stand up against you."