Roland shook his head.
“They will not release me,” he said dolefully.
Again they rode together in silence, content to be near each other, despite the young man’s alternations of elation and despair. ‘Twas, all in all, a long summer’s day of sweet unhappiness for each.
One of Roland’s reasons for choosing the right bank of the Rhine was to avoid the important city of Coblentz, with its inevitable questioning, and it was late afternoon when they saw this town on the farther shore, passing it without hindrance.
“You will rest this night,” she said, “in my Castle of Sayn, and then, as time is pressing, to-morrow you must return. We have met no interference even by this dangerous route, and I shall make my way alone without fear to Nonnenwerth, for I know you are anxious to be in Frankfort once more.”
“I swear to you, Hilda, that if, without breaking my oath, I should never see Frankfort again, I would be the most joyous of men.”
“Does your oath relate to Frankfort?”
“My oath relates to a woman,” he said shortly.
“Ah,” she breathed, “then you must keep it,” and so they fell into silence and unhappiness again.
She had talked of security on the road they traversed, but turning a corner north of Vallandar they speedily found that a Rhine road is never safe.