“What are you doing?” cried out another, in surprise. “I hope you will not lay hands on a priest?”
“Certainly not,” said Ewald; “we only expel the wolf who wished to creep in clothed as a sheep.”
A short distance out of the village, the men halted.
“So, Herr Stechapfel, now you can proceed alone,” said Franz Keller. “If you wish to be again taken out, then you must revisit us; it will be a pleasure for us to escort you as we have just done. If you are really a duly ordained priest, then I ask your pardon; but I have not to ask pardon of you personally, for you bear too close a resemblance to the traitor Judas. You can tell the gentlemen in the city that we in Weselheim shall remain true to the cross: the trowel the Freemasons may keep for themselves. Good-by!”
CHAPTER IV.
APPEAL FOR HELP.
From the tower of the palace floated a banner—a sign that the king had taken up his residence there. In the royal park, a gentleman in the prime of life was walking. His countenance bespoke a kind disposition, and his dark eyes were full of spirit and intelligence. He sought out the most lonely paths, and seemed lost in thought, while his gaze rested upon the lovely flowers of the forest, the green moss, and the gigantic oaks. Hurried steps are heard coming up the well-gravelled road; joy beams from the face of the gentleman; he stretches out his arms, presses the youthful count to his bosom, and imprints a kiss upon his forehead.
“Have you come at last, my Adolph? How fresh and handsome you look!”
“No wonder, your majesty! I drink water, and eat potatoes with sour milk,” replied the count merrily.
They walked on arm in arm. The count was distantly related to the king, who was a great lover of art, and therefore took pride in the poetic talents of his young relative.