The sun having risen over the mountains and dispersed the mist which hung about the vallies, invited Albert to the window to enjoy the splendid view. A lovely valley, surrounded by wooded heights, with three smiling villages scattered over its surface, and a rapid stream running through it, lay at the foot of the rock of Lichtenstein. It was like beholding the earth from a point in the heavens. Leaving the valley and looking to the wooded heights, his eye rested with delight upon picturesque groups of rocks and the mountain of the Alb, behind which rises the castle of Achalm, and forms the boundary of the immediate surrounding country. Beyond the walls of Achalm, the distant hills were visible to the right and left. The rock of Lichtenstein, reaching, as it were, into the clouds, commands an extensive view of Würtemberg, free and unbroken, into the far lowland. The morning sun throwing its oblique rays across the landscape, Albert was transported with the beauty of its scenery.
The fertile fields spread before him, surrounded by the wooded hills, he compared to variegated carpets, edged, as it were, with borders of dark green and brown, deriving their different shades and colours from the tints thrown over them by the dawning day. And then turning to the country between Lichtenstein and the distant Asperg, he exclaimed, "What charms for the lover of the picturesque! No continuous uninterrupted plain to weary the beholder, the eye ranges from hill to mountain in pleasing variety, and rests on the luxuriant valley, with its meandering stream gently rippling along in its course."
Albert stood wrapt in delight. He strained his eyes more and more to see and distinguish each castle and village in the far distance. Bertha stood beside him, and though she had enjoyed the same view from her childhood, she now shared his pleasure; she pointed out every place, and named all the different towers to him. "Where is there another spot in all Germany which can be compared to this!" said Albert; "I have seen vast plains, and mounted heights which command perhaps a more extended view, but such a rich combination of the picturesque and the sublime it would be difficult to find elsewhere. Look at the rich corn fields, the woods of fruit trees, and a little lower down there, where the hill assumes a blueish tinge, that garden of vines! I have never yet envied a prince; but to stand here, and look over those hills, and say this is mine, would be the height of my ambition!"
A deep sigh close to them, started the young couple from their observations. They turned round, and perceived the exile standing at the window a few paces from them. He appeared to view the country with a wild look, which made Albert uncertain whether the conversation he had just had with Bertha, or the thought of his own forlorn state, had troubled his mind.
He saluted the young man, and offered him his hand, and turning to the lord of the castle, asked him, "If a messenger had arrived?" "Schweinsberg is not yet returned," he answered.
The exile retired again to the window in silence. Bertha filled him a goblet of wine. "Be of good courage," she said, "and don't look in so disconsolate a manner over the country. Drink this wine, it is good old Würtemberger, and grows under that blue mountain."
"We cannot remain long melancholy," he answered, and turned to Albert with a forced smile, "when the sun shines so cheerfully over Würtemberg, and Heaven's mildness beams in the eye of one of her fairest maidens? Is it not so, young man? what is the sight of these hills and vallies, compared to the gleam of such eyes and the fidelity of true hearts? take your glass, and let us drink to them! Nothing is irrevocably lost so long as we possess such treasures: here's to 'Good Würtemberg for ever!'"
"Good Würtemberg for ever," replied Albert, and touched glasses. The exile was going to say something more, when the old watchman entered with a face full of importance. "There are two pedlars before the castle, and demand admittance," he announced.
"It's them! it's them!" cried the exile and old Lichtenstein in the same breath, and added, "shew them up."
The servant withdrew. An anxious moment followed the announcement. No one said a word. The knight of Lichtenstein looked as if he could pierce the door with the eye of impatience. The exile endeavoured to conceal his anxiety, but the rapid changes on his expressive features indicated clearly that his whole being was in a state of excitement. At length footsteps were heard on the stairs approaching the apartment. The exile, strong as he was, trembled so much that he was obliged to hold by the table, his body was bent forward, his eye was fixed on the door, as if he would read his fate on the countenance of the messengers--the door opened and they entered.