Not a word did his Grace venture to say more about the wager of the kisses, for his dear cousin's demeanour restrained even his hilarity. Otto had nothing to object to the arrangement; and her Grace said, if they were not willing longer to abide at her widowed court, she would bid them both Godspeed upon their journey. "And you, sir knight, may take back your daughter Sidonia, for our dear son, as you may perceive, is now quite restored, and no longer needs her nursing. For the good deed she has wrought in curing him, I shall recompense her as befits me. But at my court the maiden can no longer abide."
The knight was at first so thunderstruck by these words that he could not speak; but at last drawing himself up proudly, he said, "Good; I shall take the Lady Sidonia back with me to my castle; but as touching the recompense, keep it for those who need it." Sidonia, however, remained quite silent, as did also the young lord.
But hear what happened. The festival lasted until late in the night, and then suddenly such a faintness and bodily weakness came over the young Prince Ernest that all the physicians had to be sent for; and they with one accord entreated her Grace, if she valued his life, not to send away Sidonia.
One can imagine what her Grace felt at this news. Nothing would persuade her to believe but that Sidonia had given him some witch-drink, such as the girl out of Daber had taught her to make.
No one could believe either that his Highness affected this sickness, in order to force his mother to keep Sidonia at the court; indeed, he afterwards strongly asseverated, and this at a time when he would have killed Sidonia with a look, if it had been possible, that this weakness came upon him suddenly like an ague, and that it could not have been caused by anything she had given him, for he had eaten nothing, except at the banquet at the Cisan tower.
In short, the young Prince became as bad as ever; but Sidonia never heeded him, only busied herself packing up her things, as if she really intended going away with Otto, and finally, as eight o'clock struck the next morning, she wrapped herself in her mantle and hood, and went with her father and Duke Barnim to take leave of her Grace. She looked as bitter and sour as a vinegar-cruet—nothing would tempt her to remain even for one day longer. What was her Grace to do? the young lord was dying, and had already despatched two pages to her, entreating for one sight of Sidonia! She must give the artful hypocrite good words—but they were of no avail—Sidonia insisted on leaving the castle that instant with her father; then turning to Duke Barnim, she exclaimed with bitter tears, "Now, gracious Prince, you see yourself how I am treated here."
Neither would the cunning Otto permit his daughter to remain on any account, unless, indeed, her Grace gave him a written authority to receive the dues on the Jena. Such shameless knavery at last enraged the old Duke Barnim to such a degree that he cried out—"Listen, Otto, my illustrious cousin here has no more to do with the dues on the Jena than you have; they belong to me alone, and I can give no promise until I lay the question before my council and the diet of the Stettin dukedom: be content, therefore, to wait until then." One may easily guess what was the termination of the little drama got up by Otto and his fair daughter—namely, that Otto sailed away with the Duke, and that Sidonia remained at the court of Wolgast.
CHAPTER XVI.
_How the ghost continued to haunt the castle, and of its daring behaviour—Item, how the young lord regained his strength, and was able to visit Crummyn, with what happened to him there.
So Sidonia was again seated by the couch of the young Prince, with her hand in his hand; but her Grace, as may well be imagined, was never very far off from them; and this annoyed Sidonia so much, that she did not scruple to treat the mourning mother and princely widow with the utmost contempt; at last disdaining even to answer the questions addressed to her by her Grace. All this the Duchess bore patiently for the sake of her dear son. But even Prince Ernest felt, at length, ashamed of such insolent scorn being displayed towards his mother, and said—