“I see,” she said at last, “that I have offended you more seriously than I feared.”

“No, no,” he assured her.  “There is a burden that I cannot cast from my mind.”

“May I know what it is?”

“I dare not tell you, Hilda.  I have been a fool.  I am in the position of a man who must break his oath and live dishonored, or keep it, and remain for ever unhappy.  Which would you do were you in my place?”

“Once given, I should keep my oath,” she replied promptly, “unless those who accepted it would release me.”

Roland shook his head.

“They will not release me,” he said dolefully.

Again they rode together in silence, content to be near each other, despite the young man’s alternations of elation and despair.  ’Twas, all in all, a long summer’s day of sweet unhappiness for each.

One of Roland’s reasons for choosing the right bank of the Rhine was to avoid the important city of Coblentz, with its inevitable questioning, and it was late afternoon when they saw this town on the farther shore, passing it without hindrance.

“You will rest this night,” she said, “in my Castle of Sayn, and then, as time is pressing, to-morrow you must return.  We have met no interference even by this dangerous route, and I shall make my way alone without fear to Nonnenwerth, for I know you are anxious to be in Frankfort once more.”

“I swear to you, Hilda, that if, without breaking my oath, I should never see Frankfort again, I would be the most joyous of men.”

“Does your oath relate to Frankfort?”

“My oath relates to a woman,” he said shortly.

“Ah,” she breathed, “then you must keep it,” and so they fell into silence and unhappiness again.

She had talked of security on the road they traversed, but turning a corner north of Vallandar they speedily found that a Rhine road is never safe.

Both reined in their horses as if moved by the same impulse, but to retreat now would simply draw pursuit upon them.  Mounted on a splendid white charger, gorgeous with trappings, glittering with silver and gold, rode a dignified man in the outdoor habit of a general in times of peace.

Following him came an escort of twoscore horsemen; they in the full panoply of war; and behind them, on foot, in procession extending like a gigantic snake down the Rhine road, an army of at least three thousand men, the setting sun flashing fire from the points of their spears.  Here and there, down the line, floated above them silken flags, and Roland recognized the device on the foremost one.

“God!” he shouted in dismay.  “The Archbishop of Cologne!”

The girl uttered a little frightened cry, and edged her horse nearer to that of her escort.

“My guardian!  My guardian!” she breathed.  “I shall be rearrested!”

Seeing them standing as if stricken to stone, two horsemen detached themselves from the cavalry and galloped forward.