“Like enough,” cried Casimir, sneeringly.  “Bishop Peter hath told me as much.  But then God’s payments are long deferred, and, so far as I can see, I can take Him into my own hand.  And your little maid—­pah! since one day you took from me the mother, I, in my turn, will take the daughter and make her a titbit for the teeth of my blood-hounds.”

The man answered not again, but only hushed and fondled the little one.

Duke Casimir turned quickly to my father, showing his long teeth like a snarling dog: 

“Take the child,” he said, “and cast her into the kennels before the man’s eyes, that he may learn before he dies to dread more than God’s Judgment Seat the vengeance of Duke Casimir!”

Then all the men-at-arms turned away, heart-sick at the horror.  But the man with the child never blanched.

High perched on the top tower, I also heard the words and loved the maid.  And they tell me (though I do not remember it) that I cried down from the leads of the Red Tower:  “My father, save the little maid and give her to me—­or else I, Hugo Gottfried, will cast myself down on the stones at your feet!”

At which all the men looked up and saw me in white, a small, lonely figure, with my legs hanging over the top of the wall.

“Go back!” my father shouted.  “Go back, Hugo!  ’Tis my only son—­my successor—­the fifteenth of our line, my lord!” he said to the Duke in excuse.

But I cried all the more:  “Save the maid’s life, or I will fling myself headlong.  By Jesu-Mary, I swear it!”

For I thought that was the name of one great saint.

Then my father, who ever doted on me, bent his knee before his master:  “A boon!” he cried, “my first and last, Duke Casimir—­this maid’s life for my son!”

But the Duke hung on the request a long, doubtful moment.

“Gottfried Gottfried,” he said, even reproachfully, “this is not well done of you, to make me go back on my word.”

“Take the man’s life,” said my father—­“take the man’s life for the child’s and the fulfilling of your word, and by the sword of St. Peter I will smite my best!”

“Aye,” said the man with the babe, “even so do, as the Red Axe says.  Save the young child, but bid him smite hard at this abased neck.  Ye have taken all, Duke Casimir, take my life.  But save the young child alive!”

So, without further word or question, they did so, and the man who had carried the child kissed her once and separated gently the baby hands that clung about his neck.  Then he handed her to my father.

“Be gracious to Helene,” he said; “she was ever a sweet babe.”

Now by this time I was down hammering on the door of the Red Tower, which had been locked on the outside.

Presently some one turned the key, and so soon as I got among the men I darted between their legs.

“Give me the babe!” I cried; “the babe is mine; the Duke himself hath said it.”  And my father gave her to me, crying as if her heart would break.