“You shall make the singer’s acquaintance,” said Maria, motioning towards the young girl.  “Fraulein Henrica Van Hoogstraten, a beloved guest in our house.”

“Were you the songstress?” asked Georg.

“Does that surprise you?” replied Henrica.  “My voice has certainly retained its strength better than my body, wasted by long continued suffering.  I feel how deeply my eyes are sunken and how pale I must be.  Singing certainly lightens pain, and I have been deprived of the comforter long enough.  Not a note has passed my lips for weeks, and now my heart aches so, that I would far rather weep than sing.  ’What troubles me?’ you will ask, and yet Maria gives me courage to request a chivalrous service, almost without parallel, at your hands.”

“Speak, speak,” Georg eagerly exclaimed.  “If Frau Maria summons me and I can serve you, dear lady:  here I am, dispose of me.”

Henrica did not avoid his frank glance, as she replied: 

“First hear what a great service we ask of you.  You must prepare yourself to hear a short story.  I am still weak and have put my strength to a severe test to-day, Maria must speak for me.”

The young wife fulfilled this task quietly and clearly, closing with the words: 

“The messenger we need, I have found myself.  You must be he, Junker Georg.”

Henrica had not interrupted the burgomaster’s wife; but now said warmly

“I have only made your acquaintance to-day, but I trust you entirely.  A few hours ago, black would have been my color, but if you will be my knight, I’ll choose cheerful green, for I now begin to hope again.  Will you venture to take the ride for me?”

Hitherto Georg had gazed silently at the floor.  Now he raised his head, saying: 

“If I can obtain leave of absence, I will place myself at your disposal;—­but my lady’s color is blue, and I am permitted to wear no other.”

Henrica’s lips quivered slightly, but the young nobleman continued: 

“Captain Van der Laen is my superior officer.  I’ll speak to him at once.”

“And if he says no?” asked Maria.

Henrica interrupted her and answered haughtily:  “Then I beg you to send me Herr Wilhelm, the musician.”

Georg bowed and went to the tavern.

As soon as the ladies were alone, the young girl asked: 

“Do you know Herr von Dornburg’s lady?”

“How should I?” replied Maria.  “Give yourself a little rest, Fraulein.  As soon as the Junker comes back, I’ll bring him to you.”

The young wife left the room and seated herself at the spinning-wheel with Barbara.  Georg kept them waiting a long time, but at midnight again appeared, accompanied by two companions.  It was not within the limits of the captain’s authority to grant him a leave of absence for several weeks—­the journey to Italy would have required that length of time—­but the Junker had consulted the musician, and the latter had found the right man, with whom Wilhelm speedily made the necessary arrangements, and brought him without delay:  it was the old steward, Belotti.