“Prince Roland, if you bring hither the Countess von Sayn to-morrow afternoon, when the bells strike three, I will marry you, and gladly accept whatever penances ensue. I fear the monk’s robe has not crushed out all the impulses of the Sayn blood. In my case, perhaps, it has only covered them. And now, good-night, and God’s blessing fall upon you and her you are to marry.”
Roland went directly from the chapel to his own room, where he slept the sleep of one who has made up his mind. Nevertheless, it was not a dreamless sleep, for throughout the night he seemed to hear the tramp of armed men marching upon unconscious Frankfort, and this sound was so persistent, that at last he woke, yet still it continued. Springing up in alarm, and flinging wide the wooden shutters of his window, he was amazed to see that the sun was already high, while the sound that disturbed him was caused by a procession of heavy-footed horses, dragging over the cobble-stones carts well-laden with farm produce.
Having dressed and finished breakfast, he wrote a letter to the Archbishop of Mayence:
“My LORD ARCHBISHOP,—There are some important proposals which I
wish to make to the Electors, and as it is an unwritten rule that I
should not communicate with them separately, I beg of you to
convene a meeting to-morrow, in the Wahlzimmer, at the hour of
midday. Perhaps it is permissible to add, for your own information,
that while my major proposition has to do with the relief of
Frankfort, the minor suggestions I shall make will have the effect
of clearing away obstacles that at present obstruct your path, and
I venture to think that what I say will meet with your warmest
approval.”
It was so necessary that this communication should reach the Archbishop as soon as possible that Roland became his own messenger, and himself delivered the document at the Archbishop’s Palace. As he turned away he was startled by a hand being placed on his shoulder with a weight suggesting an action of arrest rather than a greeting of friendship. He turned quickly, and saw the Lieutenant who had so discourteously used him in the square. There was, however, no menace in the officer’s countenance.
“Still thrusting your sword at people?”
“Yes, Lieutenant, and very harmlessly. ‘Tis a bloodless combat I wage with the sword. I praise its construction, and leave to superiors like yourself, sir, the proving of its quality.”
“You are an energetic young man, and we of Mayence admire competence whether shown by mechanic or noble. Was the letter you handed in just now addressed to his Lordship?”
“Yes, Lieutenant.”
“‘Twill be quite without effect.”