The hermit found the warning bell suspended on a bough outside his cell; how it came there he never knew, but he was sure that it had been sent to rescue him from the wiles of Satan and he treasured it as a sacred relic.  Many came from far and near to see the wonder, and on the site of the cell the monk founded a chapel which became known as the Klingelkapelle, or ‘Tinkling-chapel.’

The Wafer-Nymph of Staufenberg

A charming story is linked with the castle of Staufenberg.  One day while its owner was out hunting he lost his way in the forest.  The day was hot, and the hunter was well-nigh overcome with thirst and fatigue when he entered a pleasant glade in which a spring of limpid water bubbled and sparkled.  Having quenched his thirst, he seated himself on a mossy bank to rest before proceeding homeward.  Suddenly he saw at a little distance a damsel of unique and marvellous beauty, braiding her wet hair by the side of the spring.  He watched her for a time in silence, then, conscious that the damsel had observed his scrutiny, he hastened to her side and courteously begged her permission to remain a little longer in the glade.

“You are the lord of these domains,” she replied graciously.  “It is I who am grateful to you for suffering me to dwell here.”

The young knight protested eagerly that she honoured the forest with her presence, and, indeed, he had already begun to wish that she might dwell not only in the forest but in the schloss itself as his wife and its mistress—­for he had fallen in love with her at first sight.  Indeed, so ardent was his passion that he could not conceal his infatuation; he told her of his love and begged that she would give him a little hope.  The maid’s hesitation only drove him to urge his suit with increasing ardour.

“I will say neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no,’” she replied, smiling.  “Meet me to-morrow at this hour and you shall have your answer.”

The knight parted reluctantly from the fair lady and promised to return on the following day.  When the appointed time arrived he was already at the tryst, eagerly awaiting the approach of his beloved.  When at length she came he renewed his pleadings with even greater ardour, and to his unbounded delight the answer was favourable.

“I am a water-nymph,” said the lady, “the spirit of the stream from which you drank yesterday.  You saw me then for the first time, but I have often seen you in the forest—­and I have long loved you.”

The knight was more than ever enchanted by this naive confession, and begged that their wedding should not be long delayed.

“There is one condition,” said the nymph.  “If you marry me you must remain for ever faithful.  Otherwise you must suffer death, and I eternal unhappiness.”

The knight laughed at the bare idea of his proving unfaithful to his beloved, and his vows were sincere.