Nor was she to lack agitating experiences, for the Emperor’s murmured question whether she desired to hear herself called “daughter” by this admirable lady had scarcely called forth an answer, which, though mute, revealed the state of her heart eloquently enough, than he added in a louder tone, though doubtfully:  “Then, so far, all would be well; but, fair maiden, my young friend, unfortunately, was by no means satisfied, if I heard aright, with knocking at the door of a single heart.  Things have reached my ears—­But this, too, must be——­”

Here he suddenly paused, for already during this conversation with the ladies there had been a noise at the door of the hall, and now the person whom the Emperor had just accused entered, closely followed by the chamberlain, Count Ebenhofen, whose face was deeply flushed from his vain attempts to keep Sir Heinz Schorlin back.

Heinz’s cheeks were also glowing from his struggle with the courtier, who considered it a grave offence that a knight should dare to appear before the Emperor at a peaceful social assembly clad in full armour.

His appearance created a joyful stir among the other members of the court—­nay, in spite of the sovereign’s presence, cordial expressions of welcome fell from the lips of ladies and nobles.  The Bohemian princess alone cast an angry glance at the blue ribbon which adorned the helmet of the returning knight; for “blue” was Countess von Montfort’s colour, and “rose red” her own.

The ecclesiastics whom Heinz passed whispered eagerly together.  The Duchess Agnes’s confessor, an elderly Dominican of tall stature, was listening to the provost of St. Sebald’s, a grey-haired man a head shorter than he, of dignified yet kindly aspect, who, looking keenly at Heinz, remarked:  “I fear that your prior hopes too confidently to win yonder young knight.  No one walks with that bearing who is on the eve of renouncing the world.  A splendid fellow!”

“To whom armour is better suited than the cowl,” observed the Bishop of Bamberg, a middleaged prelate of aristocratic appearance, approaching the others.  “Your prior, my dear brothers, would have little pleasure, I think, in the fish he is so eagerly trying to drag from the Minorite’s net into his own.  He would leap ashore again all too quickly.  He is not fit for the monastery.  He would do better for a priest, and I would bid him welcome as a military brother in office.”

“Bold enough he certainly is,” added the Dominican.  “I would not advise every one to enter the Emperor’s presence and this distinguished gathering in such attire.”

In fact, Heinz showed plainly that he had come directly from the battlefield and the saddle, for a suit of stout chain armour, which covered the greater part of his tolerably long tunic, encased his limbs, and even the helmet which he bore on his arm, spite of the blue ribbon that adorned it, was by no means one of the delicate, costly ones worn in the tournament.  Besides, many a bruise showed that hard blows and thrusts had been dealt him.