The oftener Bonello saw his daughter, the more unwilling he became to die. Alas! what will become of her, poor orphan, he thought. Then again, at times, he turned to his project of her marriage with Nigri, and felt reassured. But Pietro had so deeply wounded her feelings by his violent and inconsiderate outburst, that he no longer desired that union for his child. She might perhaps seek shelter in a convent! Yet, in those times of civil strife, the walls of a cloister were but an insecure protection! Whilst he lamented in the bitterness of his thought, Pietro Nigri recommenced his wild harangue on the subject of the expected pardon.

“I should be sorry, sir knight, to allow Frederic to suppose for an instant that I feared death.”

“Our positions are very different, young man,” replied Bonello. “The cares and sentiments of a father are often more potent than the chivalrous heroism of a youth!”

“You should be able to master your emotions,” said Nigri. “The ties of mere human affection should be as nothing compared with the duties which we owe to our country. If we fear the rope and the scaffold, if the approach of death is to excite our tears, we will deserve, by our weakness, to bear the German yoke.”

“You really do yourself injustice, Pietro!” said the prisoner, glancing towards the window where his daughter stood, anxiously awaiting the return of the Abbot. At last she perceived some horsemen approaching the eminence on which the fortress was built. It even seemed to her that she could distinguish the monk’s robe; but what meant those armed men? Were they the Abbot’s escort? Her heart beat violently. They drew up at the foot of the hill, and the prelate, leaving his attendants, ascended with hasty steps the path which led to the Castle.

“It is he! he is coming he is coming,” cried Hermengarde, excitedly. “See how the holy man hastens. No! his is not the air of a messenger of evil; it is mercy and pardon that he will announce! My father! oh, my father!” said she, embracing Bonello, and smiling through her tears.

“You are right, perhaps, my child; but wait a moment.”

“Oh! do not doubt it, it is certain! You are pardoned; a voice from within tells me that I am right!”

The key grated in the lock, and the Abbot entered with a solemn and dejected mien.

“I have come in person,” he said, “to communicate the result of my mission. I have only partially succeeded. Sir Knight. But the Emperor has respited you for to-day.”

The prisoner was not for an instant deceived by the mild form under which the Abbot veiled his failure. But the childish sentiments of Hermengarde did not take in at once the dread truth.

“Holy Father,” said she, “your vague words alarm me. I implore you, tell me clearly if the Emperor has pardoned my father?”

The prelate looked sadly at the young girl.

“At first the Emperor positively refused to listen to my prayers for mercy; however, by my persistent supplications I have attained a satisfactory result.”

“Ah! only for to-day!”

“We may feel perfectly easy, dear child. To-day not a hair of your father’s head will be harmed!”

“But to-morrow! Great God! what may happen tomorrow?” she cried, with anguish.

“Trust in God, my child,” said the monk; “he alone is master of the future.”

“Oh! unhappy creature that I am. You hesitate to tell me the fearful truth! You dread my tears! Do you not see, dearest Father, that my eyes are dry? that I am calm and resigned? For God’s sake, speak to me!” cried Hermengarde. “This uncertainty is worse than death! I am strong enough to bear anything but that, we have no time to lose in idle tears now. The few short hours that are left us must be spent in trying to avert to-morrow’s fearful doom!”

Hermengarde spoke earnestly, and her touching distress suggested a last hope to the good Abbot.

“Your pleadings may soften the Emperor, my child,” he said. “I will gladly use my influence to get you to his presence. You may be more successful than I.”

“You have failed! Then, indeed, all hope is lost,” she cried, despairingly.

“Calm yourself, my child,” said Guido, “all is not lost yet.”

“Oh! I am calm, my Father; my mind is entirely composed. Reverend Sir, take me at once, I beseech you, to the Emperor!”

And with wonderful stoicism she began her preparations; for though her heart was wellnigh breaking within her, she had summoned all her courage for this one last effort.

“Pietro,” said she, after a moment’s hesitation, “will you not come with me?”

“Pardon me, noble lady, if I cannot accede to your request; the sight of the tyrant has always been insupportable to me. What will it be now, when I behold you a suppliant at his feet?”

“Ah! Pietro, do not refuse me the support of your arm!”

“Fear not, my daughter,” said the Abbot; “I will not leave you for an instant. This young man appears too much excited, and we must act with the greatest calmness!”

Hermengarde seized the prelate’s hand, and they immediately left the tower.

Conrad’s retinue was composed of gentlemen of the Imperial household, for Barbarossa always treated with great distinction all those whose favor he wished to gain. As they descended the hill, Hermengarde’s beauty attracted the admiration of the knights, one of whom dismounted as she approached, and respectfully held the stirrup for her to mount. For her remarkable loveliness could not fail to conciliate the kind feelings of all those who in that chivalric age treated woman with such distinguished courtesy. The little band moved slowly along the main road to the Imperial tent, for such was the bustle and movement that their progress was more than once arrested by the crowd. Although for the first time within the precincts of a camp, Hermengarde scarcely remarked the tumult, nor noticed the looks of open admiration which her beauty called forth from all, so entirely was she a prey to her own sad thoughts. As they passed the tent of Henry the Lion, they met, the Chancellor Rinaldo, who, richly dressed and surrounded by a brilliant retinue, was about to pay a visit to the Duke.

“Whither go you thus, my lord Abbot?” he asked; “ah, well! I see you are not easily discouraged; and in truth,” he added, bowing to the young girl, “your protegee is worthy of your best efforts, to which I sincerely wish you every success.”

“The result would most certainly be successful, my lord,” said Conrad, “if my slight influence was but backed by you.”

Rinaldo said nothing, but as he gazed on Hermengarde, his bold imagination at once conceived a plan of which it alone was capable.

“My support is cheerfully offered, my lord Abbot,” said he, after a moment’s silence. “As much through respect for you, as from interest in this amiable young lady; but we must take every precaution, and not act rashly. I have a trifling affair to arrange with the Saxon Duke, and will then at once join you. Pray, in the meanwhile go into my tent.”

The Count directed one of his attendants to show every respect to the prelate and his suite during his absence, and then, after a few words of cheer to the young girl, continued on his way.

“What a lucky meeting!” said the Chancellor, who never neglected even the most unimportant circumstance. “The Lion can never look at this girl calmly. She is rather young, it is true, and a few years more would be in her favor; still, compared with Clemence, the Duke will not hesitate an instant.”

He had by this time arrived at the Saxon tent, and dismounting, he left his escort in the ante-chamber, passing himself into an inner apartment. Beckoning to a servant who was in waiting,

“Can I speak with your master?” he asked.

“In a few moments, my lord! The Duke is at present with his family, and desires not to be interrupted.”

In the adjoining room he could hear the deep voice of a man mingling with the gay laugh and joyous prattle of children.

“There is no hurry about it,” replied Dassel.

And he paced the ante-chamber, seemingly immersed in grave thought, but in reality listening to what was said in the Duke’s chamber.

Henry the Lion was a bold and courageous monarch, ever occupied in the extension of his territories. His dream was to unite under his sway all the provinces of Northern Germany, as Frederic had done with those of the South. Under the pretext of converting the heathen, he had been engaged for many years in a war with the Slaves, but the aggrandizement of his kingdom was a motive far more potent than could be the triumph of the true faith.

The innovations attempted by Frederic in the affairs of the Church met with little favor in his eyes, for he made no secret of his leanings towards orthodoxy, and although, as a vassal of the Empire, he fought against the Lombards, still in his heart he sympathized with their resistance to the encroachments of the Emperor. He refused to recognize Victor, the anti-Pope, whose slavish nature he despised, and whom he openly treated with contempt as occupying a position to which he was not legally entitled. It needed all Frederic’s diplomacy to secure the co-operation of the Duke in the struggle which he was about to inaugurate, for Barbarossa had long felt the necessity of detaching him from the support of Alexander III., and it seemed as though the crafty Chancellor had discovered a sure means of success.

Whilst the minister was plotting his dishonorable combinations, the Duke, all unconscious of the visit awaiting him, was seated in the bosom of his family, Henry was a tall, powerfully built man, with dark hair and eyes, a heavy beard, and a frank open expression upon his sun-burned features. His remarkable strength had gained him the surname of the Lion. He was impatient of all repose, and chafed bitterly at the inaction to which the Emperor had condemned him.

Near him sat the Duchess, busied with her embroidery. Not without personal and intellectual attractions, she was sincerely attached to her husband, but the affection which he had once felt for the lovely Clemence had long since made way for other sentiments. Honoring her virtues, he could not but feel deeply mortified that he was without an heir, and to his intimate associates he had more than once hinted at the possibility of a divorce.

“Look, Clemence! what a fine boy our little Hildegarde would make,” said the Duke, playing with the silken curls of the child who had glided between his knees. “He would be old enough now to play with arms, or sharpen arrows, and in a few years could fight by my side!”

“And perhaps die there, husband!”

“Our five daughters run no risk of dying a hero’s death!” he replied bitterly. “Ah! I would give the half of my left hand if one of those girls were a boy!”

“Henry, do not cherish such gloomy thoughts. You make me tremble for our future!”

“Never mind! a hand for a son!” continued Henry, with growing rage. “If my death-bed could be surrounded by five sons, I should feel that my toils had not been altogether unavailing. Ah! those five young lions could complete the work which their father had begun, and their combined efforts might defy the Emperor. But it is a painful, a bitterly painful thought, that I shall die and leave to helpless girls the great work which I have so painfully achieved.”

Clemence let fall her work and gazed upon her husband; despite her gentle nature and her sentiments of Christian resignation, she was much depressed by his violent outburst.

“Pardon, dear Henry!” she said; “your views are selfish ones. He who toils only for earthly fame, gives little thought to Eternity. In this world, we should be contented with the consciousness that we have always acted honestly and from noble motives!”

“A sad fate!”

“But the best, the most really meritorious! The true crown of glory is eternal and unfading! What we accomplish on earth is often valueless hereafter, for what then avails a lifetime spent in strife, and storms, and troubles! I implore you, dear husband, do not question the decrees of Providence; think less of earthly greatness, for pride leads to forgetfulness of God, and to eternal perdition!”

“You are right,” said the Prince, who had listened calmly while Clemence was speaking, “if we are to measure honor’s reward by what comes after death; but I maintain that I would gladly exchange some leaves of my heavenly crown, for the prospect of an earthly heir.”

A slight noise was heard, the curtains were lifted, and Lanzo with a serious face entered the room.

“Whence come you, knave?”

“From the gallows, godfather!”

“What! am I the sponsor of a gallows-bird?”

“You have no reason to be ashamed of it, cousin, since it appears to be the fashion, nowadays, to hang honest people!”

“Who has been hanged?”

“Oh! just now, no one; but those who have the halter around their necks are not always the worst off. It may be that your Grace or the Emperor would send an honest citizen to execution; but, when the devil in person leads a man to the scaffold, it is another thing!”

“You are not bright to-day, Lanzo!”

“And why not, master?”

“This stupid speech about the devil leading a man to the scaffold.”

“My luminous idea was a true one, though,” said the jester. “Would you like me to show you one of Satan’s tricks?”

“I am somewhat curious; let us see.”

“Be good enough then to open wide the eyes of your understanding, for he who is blind in spirit, although carnally lucid, cannot discover the wiles of the demon. The works of his diabolical Majesty are, like Beelzebub himself, of a spiritual essence. The first and chief agent of the devil is guess what, cousin!”

“What do you mean?”

“Pride! Whenever Satan can entangle a man in the meshes of pride, it is all over with him! Pride rises, and aspires to rise. Let us suppose that our individual is a duke, he covets the Empire; and to accomplish his purpose, would destroy every barrier to his ambition, even were it necessary to be guilty of a crime. Should he be an Emperor, he desires the power of God, and even the Pope must be his humble vassal. If you look around, cousin, you can see for yourself, that is, if your eyes are worth anything. Should the proud man have an excellent wife, whose only fault is that she has not borne him a son, the poor creature becomes a martyr, for pride has no respect for the feelings or rights of others, and only dreams of seeing his own power and glory reflected in the persons of his descendants, long after his own flesh has become the food of worms!”

The Duke started, and turned towards his wife; but Clemence seemed absorbed in her work and heedless of the fool’s discourse.

“Shall I show you some more of the devil’s tricks, cousin?”

“No! I have had enough for to-day!”

“His diabolical Majesty has not only snares and pitfalls to catch fools, but also executioners to hunt them up! If I mistake not, one of these gentry is about to pay you a visit, cousin! Come, I will show him to you, but take good care of yourself, noble Lion!”

The prince looked anxiously to where Lanzo pointed, for he knew that his jester often veiled really serious truths beneath the semblance of frivolity.

“Here is His Majesty’s servant!” said the fool, as Rinaldo entered, with a smile.

“Forgive me, my lord, for thus disturbing your family party for a moment; I could not resist the temptation of being the messenger of good news!”

“You are welcome, my lord; and these news are?”

“That to-morrow we break camp, and march upon Milan.”

“At last!” cried the soldier; “it is, indeed, good news that you bring me. Camp-life is demoralizing, and we should have finished long since with our enemies!”

“So I have urged,” replied Rinaldo. “His Majesty wished at first to await the arrival of the Austrian duke, but your counsels have modified the plan. I must really admire your influence over one who is so little patient of advice or control. Your Highness is as great in the council as in the field.”

With an ironical smile, scarcely perceptible around the corners of his mouth, Rinaldo answered,

“A monarch is none the less great, because he listens to reason and follows good advice! But I have come to summon your Highness to a council of war, in which the plan of campaign against Milan is to be discussed. It will be very select, and only a few princes and prelates, who are experienced in the art of war, will be present.”

“At what hour?”

“So soon as you shall have arrived?”

“Halloa, without there! my cloak!” cried the Duke.

“Oh! there is no need of such haste!” said Dassel. “Before starting, I must solicit a favor of your Highness.”

“On what subject, pray?”

“Oh, a mere peccadillo! But, by your leave, I would make my confession in secret.”

As they entered an adjoining room, Lanzo hurriedly concealed himself behind the hangings, as though this presumption was one of his privileges.

“What is the matter?” asked the Duke of Rinaldo, who stood before him with down-cast eyes, and an appearance of irresolution and discouragement.

“I am really a guilty man,” said the Chancellor, after a moment’s silence. I meant to await a more favorable occasion; but I was an unwilling listener to your conversation with the Duchess, and much as I dislike to interfere with your domestic happiness, I have been unable to restrain myself. That you, the most powerful prince of the Empire, should be without an heir to your glory so mighty a tree, full of sap and vigor to remain barren truly, it is a sad reflection!” The Lion raised his eyes upon the Chancellor, whose face wore an expression of deep chagrin.

“A sad reflection, say you! A man must learn to carry the burden which he cannot shake off!”

“Which he cannot? Very true, if he cannot; but, for my part, I have imagined that this accident, so fatal to your race, might be remedied. Mayhap, it will need great strength of mind on your part, or even some violence?” said the tempter, in an insinuating tone.

“Nothing more?”

“I cannot now say! The Emperor’s first wife was childless; he divorced her and married Beatrice. This union has been blessed with a numerous progeny.”

An expression of mingled regret and anger passed over the features of the Duke, who sat twisting his beard, in silence.

“Frederic could do it; Adelaide was his relative!”

“Oh, that was the pretext, I know,” said the Chancellor; “but we can easily find another equally good; and it is certain that the Pope Victor will gladly yield to a demand made by the Emperor, or even, indeed, to your own request. If consanguinity were a substantial ground for a divorce, it seems to me that the extinction of a noble house would be quite as valid a plea. Do not let this matter drop. I feel sure that your Grace will pardon my indiscretion and importunity.”

“There is no indiscretion, my lord! It is not the first time that I have pondered over this matter; but it is strange, how different an almost familiar thought appears when couched in words!”

“It is merely the realization of our long cherished desires,” said the statesman but he thought within himself, “It is a remorse for an evil deed!”

For a moment the Duke was silent, and then, with his eyes turned towards the ground, he resumed,

“I agree with you, that my marriage has become insupportable to me; but to commence the affair, and to carry it to a satisfactory result, hum! I think that rather comes within the scope of your talents and intelligence, my dear Chancellor!”

“With pleasure! You can count upon me in every way,” replied Rinaldo, and, for once, he spoke the truth. “But, in the first place, it will be necessary to secure the Emperor’s consent, and, through him, that of the Pope. Perhaps, to-day you may have the opportunity of discussing the matter before four competent persons, will that suit your Grace?”

They left the room. Henry called for his cloak, and sword and helmet. Lanzo was seated on the ground, playing with his bells.

“Cousin!” said he, looking up, as they approached, “have you forgotten all about the snares of the devil?”

As if to increase the Dukes remorse, Clemence and her children entered the room. The Duchess had heard her husband and hastened, according to the old German custom, to bring him his sword and helmet. The Chancellor bowed low before the princess, and his calm and smiling face gave no presage to the noble lady of the misfortune which menaced her happiness; but Henry, less skilled in dissimulation, averted his gaze, as he said,

“You should not take this trouble, Clemence!”

“It is ever my pleasure to serve my noble husband,” she replied, presenting him his helmet.

The Chancellor’s visit alarmed her, for she knew the violent and impetuous temper of her lord, and she feared lest some misunderstanding might arise between him and the Emperor.

“Where are you going, Henry?” she asked. “Are you summoned to His Majesty?”

“Summoned, no; that is to say, yes. I am summoned to a Council of War about to take place;” and, in company with the Chancellor, he left the tent.

“Great God! what is the matter?” said Clemence. “I have never seen him thus!”

“Nor I neither,” replied Lanzo, who was still seated upon the ground. “He looks marvellously like a man whom the devil is leading to the gallows!”

“What a fearful speech, Lanzo!”

“What a wicked man, Clemence!”

“Do you dare to speak thus of your master, Sirrah?”

“Oh! I have given him up, noble lady, and have entered your service; for, methinks you will soon have grievous need of a faithful servant!”

“Why so?”

“Why so? hum! the why would only worry you. Never question a fool too closely, noble dame, for fools tell the truth!”

“But I would know the truth, Lanzo!”

“Good! Then pray for your husband.”

“I have already done so, to-day.”

“Then do it again.”

“But why?”

“Because he is in bad company, and needs your prayers!”