The clatter of hoofs had hardly died away when the Lord of Rheinstein sought his daughter’s bower, where she sat dreaming of Kuno.  In honeyed words the old man described the enviable position she would occupy as the spouse of a wealthy man, and then conveyed to her the information that Kurt had asked him for her hand.  Gerda, insulted at the mere thought of becoming the bride of such a man, refused to listen to the proposal, even from the lips of her father, and she acquainted him with her love for Kuno, whom, she declared, she had fully resolved to marry.  At this avowal her father worked himself into a furious passion, and assured her that she should never be the bride of such a penniless adventurer.  After further insulting the absent Kuno, and alluding in a most offensive manner to his daughter’s lack of discernment and good taste, he quitted her bower, assuring her as he went that she should become the bride of Kurt on the morrow.

Gerda spent a miserable night sitting by the dying fire in her chamber, planning how she might escape from the detested Kurt, until at last her wearied brain refused to work and she fell into a troubled slumber.  In the morning she was awakened by her handmaiden, who, greatly concerned for her mistress, had spent the night in prayer.  But Gerda’s tears had fled with the morning, and she resolved, come what might, to refuse to the last to wed with the hateful Kurt.  She learned that Kuno had attempted to assault the castle during the night with the object of carrying her off, but that he had been repulsed with some loss to his small force.  This made her only the more determined to persist in her resistance to his uncle.

Meantime the vassals and retainers of the house of Rheinstein had been summoned to the castle to attend the approaching ceremony, and their gay apparel now shone and glittered in the sunshine.  The sound of pipe, tabour, and psaltery in melodious combination arose from the valley, and all hearts, save one, were happy.  The gates were thrown open, and the bridal procession formed up to proceed to the ancient church where the unhappy Gerda was to be sacrificed to Kurt.  First came a crowd of serfs, men, women, and children, all shouting in joyful anticipation of the wedding feast.  Then followed the vassals and retainers of the Lord of Rheinstein, according to their several degrees, and, last, the principal actors in the shameful ceremony, Kurt, surrounded by his retainers, and the Lord of Rheinstein with the luckless Gerda.  The mellow tones of the bell of St. Clement mingled sweetly with the sound of the flute and the pipe and the merry voices of the wedding throng.  Gerda, mounted upon her spirited Limousin steed, the gift of Kuno, shuddered as she felt Kurt’s eyes resting upon her, and she cast a despairing glance at the tower of Kuno’s castle, where, disconsolate and heavy of heart, he watched the bridal procession from the highest turret.

The procession halted at the portal of the church, and all dismounted save Gerda.  She was approached by the bridegroom, who with an air of leering gallantry offered her his assistance in alighting.  At this moment swarms of gadflies rested on the flanks of the Limousin steed, and the spirited beast, stung to madness by the flies, reared, plunged, and broke away in a gallop, scattering the spectators to right and left, and flying like the wind along the river-bank.