The boat containing the amazed young Count—­for he knew not the cause of his father’s anger, and hence rebelled against the unjust sentence which the Margrave had uttered—­had not rowed many miles, when the gallant boy rallied from his temporary surprise and despondency, and determined not to be a slave in any convent of any order:  determined to make a desperate effort for escape.  At a moment when the men were pulling hard against the tide, and Kuno, the coxswain, was looking carefully to steer the barge between some dangerous rocks and quicksands which are frequently met with in the majestic though dangerous river, Otto gave a sudden spring from the boat, and with one single flounce was in the boiling, frothing, swirling eddy of the stream.

Fancy the agony of the crew at the disappearance of their young lord!  All loved him; all would have given their lives for him; but as they did not know how to swim, of course they declined to make any useless plunges in search of him, and stood on their oars in mute wonder and grief.  Once, his fair head and golden ringlets were seen to arise from the water; twice, puffing and panting, it appeared for an instant again; thrice, it rose but for one single moment:  it was the last chance, and it sunk, sunk, sunk.  Knowing the reception they would meet with from their liege lord, the men naturally did not go home to Godesberg, but putting in at the first creek on the opposite bank, fled into the Duke of Nassau’s territory; where, as they have little to do with our tale, we will leave them.

But they little knew how expert a swimmer was young Otto.  He had disappeared, it is true; but why? because he had dived. He calculated that his conductors would consider him drowned, and the desire of liberty lending him wings, (or we had rather say fins, in this instance,) the gallant boy swam on beneath the water, never lifting his head for a single moment between Godesberg and Cologne—­the distance being twenty-five or thirty miles.

Escaping from observation, he landed on the Deutz side of the river, repaired to a comfortable and quiet hostel there, saying he had had an accident from a boat, and thus accounting for the moisture of his habiliments, and while these were drying before a fire in his chamber, went snugly to bed, where he mused, not without amaze, on the strange events of the day.  “This morning,” thought he, “a noble, and heir to a princely estate—­this evening an outcast, with but a few bank-notes which my mamma luckily gave me on my birthday.  What a strange entry into life is this for a young man of my family!  Well, I have courage and resolution:  my first attempt in life has been a gallant and successful one; other dangers will be conquered by similar bravery.”  And recommending himself, his unhappy mother, and his mistaken father to the care of their patron saint, Saint Buffo, the gallant-hearted boy fell presently into such a sleep as only the young, the healthy, the innocent, and the extremely fatigued can enjoy.