“But now, Moida, do come and see what I have been about since morning,” spoke Ulrich, drawing her gently along. With this all three passed into the tower, where verily a great change had been wrought in a few hours.
Not only were many frescos long invisible brought again to view, but it was now manifest that each figure and group of figures, from the barbarian Attila down to the most modern one of all, which was scarce a century old, were linked together and presented a tolerably good pictorial history of the house of Loewenstein; and Conrad observed to Moida with a roguish smile: “Your betrothed, miss, has for his remote ancestor a Hun.”
They were still examining these wall-paintings when the donkeys made their appearance, and, although the hour was rather late, Moida clapped her hands and said: “Let us put everything to rights at once. Do!” Accordingly, inspirited by her blithe voice, Conrad and Ulrich, without summoning others to help them, unpacked the loads, and so zealously did they work that in a very short while everything was in its proper place except the huge earthenware stove.
Then Conrad donned a suit of armor (rusty and dented, but all the better for being so), and, clutching firmly a heavy two-handed sword, laid about him right and left like mad for above a minute, to Moida’s great delight, and until he was fain to pause for breath.
“I have a friend in Cologne,” said he, “a republican like myself in his opinions; but I mean to write and warn him never to buy a castle—never; otherwise he’ll become a changed man. Oh! there’s nothing like buying a castle to make one an aristocrat.”
After joining in the hearty laugh with which he ended this speech, Moida said to him in a whisper, and as though she felt there was something touching in what she was about to communicate: “My friend Walburga entered the curiosity-shop to-day, sir, for the first time since I have had anything in it belonging to Loewenstein; and ere I packed up the various objects, she placed her hand on each one and stroked it, and even kissed yonder clock, for she said: ‘It stood in my mother’s chamber, it called many a happy hour, and now ’tis going back to the old home again.’”
“Well, now let me tell you a secret,” said Conrad, likewise in an undertone, but with a bright gleam in his eye: “I hope one of these days to see the young lady here herself.”
“Oh! wouldn’t that be charming! Wouldn’t that be glorious!” replied Moida, who understood what he meant. “Why, in the whole of Bavaria there is not her equal, and I am sure you will make her an excellent husband.”
“I hope so, Miss Hofer, even though I am no longer a believer in Christianity.”
“’Twill give Walburga the great happiness of making you a Christian again,” she added, with an arch smile. But Conrad’s expression did not respond to hers, and for a minute or two he was silent. When again he opened his lips the tone of his voice was changed, and, in order to shake off the gloom which he felt creeping upon him, he asked her to sing him a song.