Lady Von Allenstein was often deeply moved when she felt Kuno's tenderness and thought of her own heartlessness. Once her emotion overcame her, and she drew Kuno to her side, and said with tears—"You are so good to me, who was so unkind to you; can you forgive me for all the wrong I have done you? Oh! if I could only get back my sight, I would take every opportunity of making up to you for my injustice."
Kuno was still on the most friendly terms with the dwarf nation, and regarded the enchanted palace as his second home.
Exactly a year had passed since that wedding in the tower-chamber, when King Goldemar again expressed a wish to hold a similar feast in the same room.
Kuno's heart beat high with joy at these words; perhaps—but he would cherish no presumptuous hopes.
Again the room was festively decorated; but no one in the castle got the least hint of what was to take place in the isolated room. The little guests appeared, and this time the merriment went on undisturbed.
But dawn, the time of separation, was drawing near, and Goldemar held out his hand to his protégé to say good-bye. Then Kuno held it fast, and looked entreatingly into the good King's face.
"What dost thou want, Kuno?" asked Goldemar.
"I have one petition, the fulfilment of which will make me happy," answered the boy.
"Name it," said the King graciously; "it is granted."