The bridal party sought high and low for the bride, but she was nowhere to be seen.  Bodo loudly vented his indignation at his daughter’s rebelliousness, but his anger was changed to mourning when the body of the drowned maiden was washed ashore a few days later.  Too late he repented him of his rash folly.  All his lamentations could not restore poor Adeline to life.  He caused the lovers to be buried together, and spent the remainder of his days in prayer and penitence.

Frankfort

Frankfort, the castle of the Franks, was, it is said, founded by Charlemagne at the time of the overthrow of the pagan Saxons, which has already been recorded in the Song of the Saxons.  Here Charlemagne was led across the Rhine by deer, escaping with his army from certain slaughter at the hands of the savage horde who sought to ambush him.  Other picturesque stories cluster round the city, the best of which are the following.

The Poacher of Frankfort

In the city of Frankfort-on-the-Main stands a five-pointed tower, and in the midst of one of these points is a vane containing nine round holes, forming the figure 9.  The origin of this figure is as follows: 

A notorious poacher lay in the tower condemned to death for numerous offences against the stringent game-laws of the country.  He awaited his end in silence, and sat moodily unobservant of the bright rays of the sun which poured into his cell through the grated window.  Others, he pondered, were basking in the joyous light outside yonder in the verdant summer fields, whilst he, who even now felt the noose tighten round his neck, was plunged in semi-darkness.  Well, as darkness was to be his element, he might as well make present use of it for its special purpose—­to aid sleep; especially as sleep would remove him for the time being from gloomy contemplation upon his approaching end.

As he slept a pleasant smile took the place of the sombre expression natural to his waking moments.  But on a sudden he started in his slumber, grating his teeth, his face transformed with violent rage.

“Ha, villain, that was a trap,” he muttered, but almost immediately his countenance resumed the sad expression which had lately become habitual to it.  In the course of a few moments, however, this gave way to a look of resolution and conscious strength, and even in sleep he appeared to have made up his mind unalterably upon some matter of importance.

At this juncture the turnkey entered the cell, accompanied by two officials, one of whom read to him a missive from those in authority which stated that a petition for mercy which he had made could not be entertained, and that he must suffer the extreme penalty of the law.

“I protest against such a sentence,” cried the poacher, “for, after all, I have only killed those animals which were given us by God for our common use.  Would you forfeit the life of a man because he has slain the beasts of chase?”