The next morning the events of the evening seemed like a dream.  Would that they had been one!  Only he would not have missed, at any cost, the sweet memories associated with Eva.  But could she really become his own?  He feared not; for the higher the sun rose the more impracticable his intentions of the night before appeared.  At last he even thought of the religious conversation in the dancing hall with a superior smile, as if it had been carried on by some one else.  The resolve to ask from her father the hand of the girl he loved he now rejected.  No, he was not yet fit for a husband and the quiet life in the old castle.  Yet Eva should be the lady of his heart, her patron saint should be his, and he would never sue for the love of any other maiden.  Hers he must secure.  To press even one kiss on her scarlet lips seemed to him worth the risk of life.  When he had stilled this fervent longing he could ride with her colour on helm and shield from tourney to tourney, and break a lance for her in every land through which he passed with the Emperor.  What would happen afterwards let the saints decide.  As usual, Biberli was his confidant, and declared himself ready to use Katterle’s services in his master’s behalf.

He had his own designs in doing this.  He could rely upon the waiting maid’s assistance, and if there were secret meetings between Eva Ortlieb and his lord, which would appease the knight’s ardour, even in a small degree, the task of disgusting Heinz with his luckless idea of an early marriage would not prove too difficult.

CHAPTER IV.

Eva Ortlieb had been borne home from the ball in her sedan chair with a happy smile hovering round her fresh young lips.

It still lingered there when she found her sister in their chamber, sitting at the spinning wheel.  She had not left her suffering mother until her eyes closed in slumber, and was now waiting for Eva, to hear whether the entertainment had proved less disagreeable than she feared, and—­as she had sent her maid to bed—­to help her undress.

One glance at Eva told her that she had perhaps left the ballroom even more reluctantly than she entered it; but when Els questioned her so affectionately, and with maternal care began to unfasten the ribbon which tied her cap, the young girl, who in the sedan chair had determined to confess to no one on earth what so deeply moved her heart, could not resist the impulse to clasp her in her arms and kiss her with impetuous warmth.

Els received the caress with surprise for, though both girls loved each other tenderly, they, like most sisters, rarely expressed it by tangible proofs of tenderness.  Not until Eva released her did Els exclaim in merry amazement:  “So it was delightful, my darling?”

“Oh, so delightful!” Eva protested with hands uplifted, and at the same time met her sister’s eyes with a radiant glance.