The more gleefully we sang and the more it was made plain that we, to all seeming, were only to obey the wishes of Ann and of his highness the duke, the less could my brother refrain himself to hide his ill-pleasure; and when presently the Junker besought Ann that she would sing “Tanderadei,” which she very readily did, Herdegen could bear no more; he asked the Italian to lend him his mandoline, and struck the strings as though merely for his own good pleasure.  Whereupon Ann turned to him and courteously entreated him for a song, and he asking her which song she would have, she hastily replied:  “Your old ditties are already known to me, Junker Schopper; and, to judge by your seeming, you now take no pleasure save in French music.  Let us then hear somewhat of the latest Paris fashion.”

To this he replied, however:  “Here, in my own land, I would like better to sing in my own tongue, by your gracious leave, fair mistress.”

Then bowing to Ursula and to me, without even casting a glance at Ann, he went on to say:  “And seeing that methinks you love madrigals, I will sing a Franconian ditty after the Junker’s Brandenburg ballad.”

He boldly struck the strings, and the little birds, which by this time had gone to rest in the linden-tree, again uplifted their little heads, and all that had ears and soul, near and far, Ann not the least, hearkened as he began with his clear voice and noble skill.

                   “To all this goodly company
                    I sing as best I may,
                    A madrigal of ladies fair
                    And damsels soote and gay. 
                    Through many countries great and small
                    I roam, and ladies fair I see
                    Many! but fairest of them all
                    The maidens of my own countree. 
                    The maidens of Franconia
                    I ever love to meet,
                    They dwell in fond remembrance
                    A vision ever sweet. 
                    Of maids they are the crown and pearl! 
                    And if I might but spin them
                    I would make the spindle whirl!”

My lord duke clapped hearty praise of the singer, and we all did the same; all save Junker Henning, who had not failed to mark that Herdegen had striven to out-do his modest warble, and likewise the ardent eyes he turned on the lady of his choice.  Hence he moved not.  Ann clapped her hands but lightly, sat looking into her lap, and for some time could say not a word; indeed, if she had trusted herself to speak the game would of a certainty have been lost.

The knight of Eberstein it was, who ere long, albeit unwittingly, came to her aid; he challenged Ursula to give us a song in thanks to Junker Herdegen’s praise of the maids of Franconia.