’Tis needless to say what were the thoughts of the noble Childe as he performed his two hours’ watch; what gushing memories poured into his full soul; what “sweet and bitter” recollections of home inspired his throbbing heart; and what manly aspirations after fame buoyed him up.  “Youth is ever confident,” says the bard.  Happy, happy season!  The moonlit hours passed by on silver wings, the twinkling stars looked friendly down upon him.  Confiding in their youthful sentinel, sound slept the valorous toxophilites, as up and down, and there and back again, marched on the noble Childe.  At length his repeater told him, much to his satisfaction, that it was half-past eleven, the hour when his watch was to cease; and so, giving a playful kick to the slumbering Wolfgang, that good-humored fellow sprung up from his lair, and, drawing his sword, proceeded to relieve Otto.

The latter laid him down for warmth’s sake on the very spot which his comrade had left, and for some time could not sleep.  Realities and visions then began to mingle in his mind, till he scarce knew which was which.  He dozed for a minute; then he woke with a start; then he went off again; then woke up again.  In one of these half-sleeping moments he thought he saw a figure, as of a woman in white, gliding into the room, and beckoning Wolfgang from it.  He looked again.  Wolfgang was gone.  At that moment twelve o’clock clanged from the town, and Otto started up.

CHAPTER IX.

The lady of Windeck.

As the bell with iron tongue called midnight, Wolfgang the Archer, pacing on his watch, beheld before him a pale female figure.  He did not know whence she came:  but there suddenly she stood close to him.  Her blue, clear, glassy eyes were fixed upon him.  Her form was of faultless beauty; her face pale as the marble of the fairy statue, ere yet the sculptor’s love had given it life.  A smile played upon her features, but it was no warmer than the reflection of a moonbeam on a lake; and yet it was wondrous beautiful.  A fascination stole over the senses of young Wolfgang.  He stared at the lovely apparition with fixed eyes and distended jaws.  She looked at him with ineffable archness.  She lifted one beautifully rounded alabaster arm, and made a sign as if to beckon him towards her.  Did Wolfgang—­the young and lusty Wolfgang—­follow?  Ask the iron whether it follows the magnet?—­ask the pointer whether it pursues the partridge through the stubble?—­ask the youth whether the lollipop-shop does not attract him?  Wolfgang did follow.  An antique door opened, as if by magic.  There was no light, and yet they saw quite plain; they passed through the innumerable ancient chambers, and yet they did not wake any of the owls and bats roosting there.  We know not through how many apartments the young couple passed; but at last they came to one where a feast was prepared:  and on an antique table, covered with massive silver, covers were laid for two.  The lady took her place at one end of the table, and with her sweetest nod beckoned Wolfgang to the other seat.  He took it.  The table was small, and their knees met.  He felt as cold in his legs as if he were kneeling against an ice-well.