In a very short time they were riding together on the road to Mainz, where Ludwig held court.  When they were a mile or two from Ehrenfels Hatto burst into a loud laugh, and in answer to the Count’s questioning glance he said merrily: 

“What a perfect host you are!  You let your guest depart without even asking him whether he has breakfasted.  And I am famishing, I assure you!”

The courteous Adalbert was stricken with remorse, and murmured profuse apologies to his guest.  “You must think but poorly of my hospitality,” said he; “in my loyalty I forgot my duty as a host.”

“It is no matter,” said Hatto, still laughing.  “But since we have come but a little way, would it not be better to return to Ehrenfels and breakfast?  You are young and strong, but I—­”

“With pleasure,” replied the Count, and soon they were again within the castle enjoying a hearty meal.  With her own hands the young Countess presented a beaker of wine to the guest, and he, ere quaffing it, cried gaily to Adalbert: 

“Your health!  May you have the reward I wish for you!” Once again they set out on their journey, and reached Mainz about nightfall.  That very night Adalbert was seized ignominiously and dragged before the Emperor.  By Ludwig’s side stood the false Bishop.

“What means this outrage?” cried the Count, looking from one to the other.

“Thou art a traitor,” said Ludwig, “and must suffer the death of a traitor.”

Adalbert addressed himself to the Bishop.

“And thou,” he said, “thou gavest me thine oath that thou wouldst bring me in safety to Ehrenfels.”

“And did I not do so, fool?” replied Hatto contemptuously.  “Was it my fault if thou didst not exact a pledge ere we set out for the second time?”

Adalbert saw now the trap into which he had fallen, and his fettered limbs trembled with anger against the crafty priest.  But he was impotent.

“Away with him to the block!” said the Emperor.

“Amen,” sneered Hatto, still chuckling over the success of his strategy.

And so Adalbert went forth to his doom, the victim of the cruel Churchman’s treachery.

Rheingrafenstein

Rheingrafenstein, perched upon its sable foundations of porphyry, is the scene of a legend which tells of a terrible bargain with Satan—­that theme so frequent in German folk-tale.

A certain nobleman, regarding the site as impregnable and therefore highly desirable, resolved to raise a castle upon the lofty eminence, But the more he considered the plan the more numerous appeared the difficulties in the way of its consummation.