“Poor youth,” murmured the priest, “thou little thinkest on what errand you are riding. But, come, I will deceive this cruel emperor,” continued he, as he erased the passage in which Henry’s death was commanded, and inserted these words: “Give him our daughter in marriage.”
The letter altered and replaced, his horse reshod, Henry set out on his journey, and soon arrived at the city where the queen dwelt. Presenting his letter to the queen, he was greatly surprised when she hailed him as her son-in-law, by virtue of the royal commands, and bade the priests and nobles of her court to assist in rendering the celebration of the nuptials as gorgeous as befitted the occasion.
It was in vain that Conrad raged against the deceit thus practised on him; one by one the wonderful facts of the young man’s deliverance were revealed to him, and he could not but recognize in them all the hand of a protecting Providence. Deeply penitent for his many offences against God and man, he confirmed the marriage of his daughter, recalled the old count from his forest hut, and proclaimed the young Henry heir to his empire.
“There is a great family likeness between this tale of yours, and the German story of The Giant with the Golden Hair.”
“In what respect?”
“In the manner in which the fortunate youth obtains the princess as his wife. In that legend, a king discovers the babe after a manner very similar to that in which Henry is found by Conrad, and—warned that the child is to be his son-in-law—he sends him on a message to his queen, with a letter of the same import as in your tale. Fatigued with his journey, the youth arrived at a robber’s cottage, falls asleep, and during his rest the thieves alter the letter, as the priest does that borne by Henry. The effect is, of course, similar.”
“But what of the golden-haired giant?” asked Herbert.
“He does not appear until the second part of the legend, and this is doubtless added on from some other tradition. You will find the whole story in Grimm’s most amusing collection of German popular stories.”
“With this tale, then, we conclude our evening’s amusement.”
“I am afraid it must be so, Herbert,” rejoined Lathom; “I should not like to be left without material for to-morrow, our last meeting; and between this and then I am unable to prepare any more tales.”