In the great gilded hall of the castle, the Duke sat in state to give audience to the knights. Princess Inga stood by his side. White-robed and with a cluster of dewy roses in her hand, she looked so fair, so gracious and lovely, that both the cavaliers were enraptured.
After the salutations were over, the Duke, in a straightforward manner, gave them his friendly permission to make further acquaintance with the Princess, provided they would yield to his wishes in one respect.
To prevent either suitor from interfering with or standing in the way of the other, the Duke would have each knight in turn spend one day with the Princess and one day with Klaus Klodrian, a humble servitor of the castle, who dwelt in a hut on the borders of the estate.
If they had any disinclination to do this, the matter was at an end; for this was the plan he had fixed upon, and it was unalterable.
"Have the goodness, my honored guests," then continued the Duke, "to agree between yourselves which of you shall remain here to-day, and which shall now go to Klaus Klodrian."
Since the Green Knight sat in silence with the evident intention of awaiting what the other might say, the Blue Knight politely offered to give his fellow-suitor the first day with the Princess. The offer was accepted with much pleasure, and while the Green Knight bowed before the Princess and began to talk with her, the Blue Knight was conducted out of the audience hall, down a broad staircase, across a great courtyard, and thence on and on, through garden and park, through barnyards and stables, into the lane at the end of which stood the hut of the stable-boy, Klaus Klodrian.
Poor Klaus sat inside, being just about to begin his frugal noonday meal. He jumped up in great confusion at the sudden entrance of a grand gentleman.
Holding a long loaf of black bread in his hands, he stood startled and bewildered, his round eyes staring, his great mouth wide open; but when the Blue Knight gave him a gentle greeting, courteously asked permission to spend the day with him, and began to talk to him in a friendly manner, Klaus gradually recovered from his confusion and became his quiet, simple self again. He clattered clumsily about on his heavy wooden shoes, with long straws from the stable dangling from his clothes and littering the floor. Always good-natured and unused to any attention save ridicule, he soon glowed with happiness because of the Blue Knight's kind treatment.
"I will show you something," said Klaus with joy and pride, though shyly; and he brought forth his only treasure—two white doves in a cage,—and began to talk eagerly about them. It seemed as if he could reiterate the praises of these doves endlessly. To him there was nothing equal to them in the whole world.
That day would have been long and tedious, indeed, to the knight, if he had not found something with which to occupy himself. With his ready sympathy toward all, he soon discovered that Klaus Klodrian was not altogether a hopeless dullard. If only one would tell him a thing twelve or fourteen times, he could then understand most of it; but no one heretofore had found this out, because no one had taken pains enough, or been patient enough with him.