Sidonia, next morning, got a good soft seat in the waggon, upon the sack of a cloth merchant; he was cousin to the burgomaster, and promised to take her with him, out of friendship for him. All the men in the waggon were armed with spears and muskets, for fear of the robbers, who were growing more daring every day.
So they proceeded; but had not got far from the town when a horseman galloped furiously after them, and called out that he would accompany them; and this was Claude Uckermann, of whom I have spoken so much in my former book. He, too, was going to Stettin. Now when Sidonia saw him, her eyes glistened like a cat's when she sees a mouse, and she rejoiced at the prospect of such good company, for since the wedding of her sister, never had this handsome youth come across her, though she was constantly looking out for him. So as he rode up by the waggon, she greeted him, and prayed him to alight and come and sit by her upon the sack, that they might talk together of dear old times.
She imagined, no doubt, that he knew nothing of all that had happened; but her disgrace was as public at Stargard as if it had been pealed from the great bell of St. Mary's. He therefore knew her whole story, and answered, that sitting by her was disagreeable to him now; and he rode on. This was plain enough, one would think; but Sidonia still held by her delusion; for as they reached the first inn, and stopped to feed the horses, she saw him stepping aside to avoid her, and seating himself at some distance on a bank. So she put on her flattering face, and advanced to him, saying, "Would not the dear young knight make up with her?—what ailed him?—it was impossible he could resent her silly fun at her sister's wedding. Oh! if he had come again and asked her seriously to be his wife, in place of there in the middle of the dancing, as if he had been only jesting, she would never have had another husband, for from that till now, never had so handsome a knight met her eyes; but she was still free."
Hereupon the young man (as he told me himself) made answer—"Yes, she had rightly judged, he was only jesting, and taking his pastime with her, as they sat there upon the carpet, for he held in unspeakable aversion and disgust a cup from which every one sipped."
Still Sidonia would not comprehend him, and began to talk about Wolgast. But he looked down straight before him in the grass, and never spake a word, but turned on his heel, and entered the inn, to see after his horse. So he got rid of her at last.
As the waggon set off again, she began to sing so merrily and loudly, that all the wood rang with it. And the young knight was not so stupid but that he truly discerned her meaning, which was to show him that she cared little for his words, since she could go away in such high spirits.
Summa, when they reached the inn at Stettin, Sidonia got all her baggage carried in from the waggon, and there dressed herself with all her finery: silken robes, golden hairnet, and golden chains, rings, and jewels, that all the people saluted her when she came forth, and went to the castle to ask for his Highness the Duke. He was in his workshop, and had just finished turning a spinning-wheel; he laughed aloud when she entered, ran to her, embraced her, and cried, "What! my treasure!—where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel? How I laughed when Master Hansen, whom my old, silly, sour cousin of Wolgast sent with thee, came in lately into my workshop, and told me he had brought thee hither in a ducal coach! I ran directly to the courtyard; but when the knave opened the door, my little thrush had flown. Where hast thou been so long, my sugar-morsel?"
As his Grace put all these questions, he continued kissing her, so that his long white beard got entangled in her golden chains; and as she pushed him away, a bunch of hair remained sticking to her brooch, so that he screamed for pain, and put his hand to his chin. At this, in rushed the court marshal and the treasurer (who were writing in the next chamber) as white as corpses, and asked, "Who is murdering his Grace?" but his Grace held up his hand over his bleeding mouth, and winked to them to go away. So when they saw that it was only a maiden combat, they went their way laughing.
Hereupon speaks his Grace—"See now, treasure, what thou hast done! Thou canst be so kind to a groom, yet thy own gracious Prince will treat so harshly!"
But Sidonia began to weep bitterly. "What did he think of her? The whole story was an invention by his old sour cousin of Wolgast to ruin her because she would not learn her catechism (and then she told the same tale as to her father); but would not his Grace take pity on a poor forsaken maiden, seeing that Prince Ernest could not deny he had promised to make her his bride, and wed her privately at Crummyn, on the very next night to that on which her Grace had so shamefully outraged her?"