part at Zurich.  He was connected with Henry of Austria by a double tie, Matilda, his first wife, having been the sister of the king, and Adelaide, to whom he was then married, being the sister of the queen.  But, though thus allied to Henry, he neither loved nor respected him.  Once, indeed, the emperor had summoned him to court, on the charge of entertaining projects hostile to the house of Franconia, but Rodolph, well knowing the treacherous character of the monarch, and always a hero, boldly refused, preferring the fortune of arms to the fate of an investigation.  Subsequently, filled with horror at the impiety of the Saxons in burning the Cathedral at Hartzburg, hallowed by numerous relics, and filled with the rich offerings of the faithful, he had united with Henry to chastise their sacrilege.  At the battle of Hohenburg, in the van—­the privilege of Suabia—­he distinguished himself above all others by his impetuous valor, and only left the field when covered with wounds.  Rodolph was equally remarkable for the size and beauty of his person, and the elevation of his soul.  The Teutonic antiquities contain many songs of the Minnesingers, in which he is invested with all the qualities of mind and heart and body that can adorn the knight; but one fault is imputed to him—­ambition.  His subjects almost worshipped him, and his power is said to have been built upon their hearts.  So conspicuous was he among his brother dukes, that, at the Diet of Gerstungen, in 1073, he had been offered the imperial crown, but he declined it unless awarded by the unanimous suffrages of the confederation.

Between him and the Baron of Hers a close friendship of long standing had existed, which had been interrupted by the baron’s refusal to accompany him the preceding year in the expedition against Saxony.  This refusal had been dictated by the knight’s invincible repugnance to Henry, and by the politic move of conciliating all who opposed the emperor.  Since the battle of Hohenburg they had not met.

After receiving the formal salutation due to his rank, Rodolph cordially embraced the Lord of Hers, and extended his regards to Gilbert, who could not sufficiently admire the hero of Hohenburg.

“But for your father’s obstinacy,” he said to the youth, “you would now be a knight.  But I will see you win your spurs yet.”

The greetings over, they all began to ascend the hill.  The duke would not pass the chapel without entering.  The pavement upon which they knelt had been worked with many a rich and curious device; but time and the knees of the faithful had worn away most of the finest tracery.  At the foot of one of the columns still remained this fragment of an inscription: 

  Hoc pavimentum ... feci
  ... ductus amore Dei.

This was the spot upon which the duke loved to kneel.  Before rising, he drew from under his robe a golden chalice, and gave it to Herman, who was beside him.  The priest took it and carried it to the sanctuary.