It was not the rosy cheek, not the crimson lips, that wounded his heart so deliciously, but her eye.
The horse was not able to carry her home, her servant had fled, and Ernst undertook to conduct her to her father's Burg. Arrived there, not all the entreaties of the rescued maiden could induce him to enter, but already it was difficult to tear himself away.
The impression she had made did not escape her notice, and as she gave him her hand at parting, carried away by the depth of her own emotions, she yielded to his entreaties to meet him sometimes, and promised with tears in her eyes.
Ernst hunted no more on the mountains, but stood dreaming on a high spot whence he could see her father's castle. And when he espied Jutta with her lute descend into the castle garden, and wander into the wood, he rushed to meet her, and lived a blissful hour in listening to her voice and lute, and she at last confessed she loved him with all her heart.
But now a rich earl sought Jutta's hand, and the lord of the Felsenburg promised this suitor his daughter, because his debts were so great that only a wealthy son-in-law could save his estates.
In vain Jutta threw herself at her father's feet and declared she loved a handsome, good, and noble youth of ancient race.
"Is he rich?" was the father's sole question.
"No!" Alas, "no!" Ernst was in despair, and Jutta wept hours at a time, which only spoiled her pretty eyes without doing her the least good.
Jutta at last resolved to give up Ernst for her father's benefit, but she would see him once more, and assure him that her filial love could not lessen her affection for the choice of her heart.
That was what caused her sadness as we first saw her, and Ernst, as he rushed towards her, must have had some presentiment of the coming trouble in her resolve. But she could not tell him her purpose, and, as they parted, whispered, "to-morrow we will see each other again."