The Prince laughed.

“It is true, nevertheless.  My Lord Count, there is a namesake of mine in the precincts of your strong Castle of Gutenfels; a namesake who does more honor to the title than I do myself.”

The Count Palatine threw back his head, and the forest garden echoed with boisterous laughter.

“You mean my black charger, Prince Roland!” he shouted.  “A noble horse indeed.  How knew you of him?  If your Highness cares for horses allow me to present him to you.”

“Never, my Lord Count.  You are too fond of him yourself, and I have always had an affectionate feeling towards you for your love of that animal, which, indeed, hardly exceeds my own.  I grasped his bridle-rein, and held the stirrup while you mounted.”

“How is that possible?” asked the astonished Count.

“I cared for Prince Roland nearly a month, receiving generous wages, and, what I valued more, your own commendation, for you saw I was as fond of horses as you were.”

“Good heavens!  Were you that youth who came so mysteriously, and disappeared without warning?”

“Yes,” laughed the Prince.  “I know Gutenfels nearly as well as you do.  I was a spy, studying the art of war and methods of fortification.  I stopped in various capacities at nearly all the famous Castles of the Rhine, and this knowledge recently came in—­”

“Your Highness, your Highness!” pleaded the Archbishop.  “I implore you to remember that the Count Palatine is an Elector of the Empire, and, as I told last night, we are facing a crisis.  Until that crisis is passed you will add to my already great anxiety by any lack of reticence on your part.”

“By the Three Kings!” cried the Count, “this youth, if I may venture to call him so, has bound me to him with bands stronger than chain armor.  I shall vote for him whoever falters.”

“His Highness,” said the Archbishop, with a propitiatory smile, “has been listening to the Eastern tales which our ancestors brought from the Crusades, and I fear has filled his head with fancies.”

“Really, Archbishop, you misjudge me,” said the young man; “I am the most practical person in the Empire.  You interrupted my boasting to her ladyship of my handiwork.  I would have you know I am a capable mechanic and a sword maker.  What think you of that, my Lord?” he asked, drawing forth his weapon, and handing it to Cologne.

“An excellent blade indeed,” said the latter, balancing it in his hand.

“Very well, my Lord, I made it and tempered it unassisted.  I beg you to re-enter your palace, and write me out an order for a thousand of these weapons.”

“If your Highness really wishes me to do this, and there is no concealed humorism in your request which I am too dull to fathom, you must accompany me to my study and dictate the document I am to indite.  I shall wait till you bid farewell to the Countess.”

A glance of mutual understanding flashed between the girl and himself, then Roland raised her hand to his lips, and although the onlookers saw the gallant salutation, they knew nothing of the gentle pressure with which the fingers exchanged their confidences.