The next afternoon Kuni ascended the rope to the steeple in the presence of many princes and dignitaries.  Firmly as ever she moved along the rope stretched through the wooden stay behind her, holding the balancing pole as she went.  The clapping of hands and shouts of applause with which the crowd greeted “the flying maiden” led her to kiss her hand to the right and the left, and bow to the stand which had been erected for the crowned heads, counts, nobles, and their wives.  In doing so, she looked down at the aristocratic spectators to ascertain whether the Emperor and one other were among them.  In spite of the height of the topmost window of the steeple where she stood, her keen eyes showed her that Maximilian’s seat was still vacant.  As it was hung with purple draperies and richly garlanded, the monarch was evidently expected.  This pleased her, and her heart throbbed faster as she saw on the stand all the nobles who were entitled to admittance to the lists of a tournament, and, in the front row, the man whose presence she most desired.  At Lienhard’s right sat his dazzlingly beautiful wife, adorned with plumes and the most superb gold ornaments; at his left was a maiden of extremely peculiar charm.  According to years she was still a child, but her delicate, mobile features had a mature expression, which sometimes gave her a precocious air of superiority.  The cut of her white robe and the little laurel wreath on her brown curls reminded Kuni of the pagan Genius on an ancient work of marble which she had seen in Verona.  Neither the girl’s age nor her light, airy costume harmonized with her surroundings; for the maids and matrons near her were all far beyond childhood, and wore the richest holiday costumes of heavy brocades and velvets.  The huge puffs on the upper part of the sleeves touched the cheeks of many of the wearers, and the lace ruffs on the stiff collars rendered it easy, it is true, to maintain their aristocratic, haughty dignity, but prevented any free, swift movement.

The young girl who, as Kuni afterward learned, was the daughter of Conrad Peutinger, of Augsburg, whom she had again seen that day in The Blue Pike, was then eleven years old.  She was sometimes thought to be fifteen or even sixteen; her mobile face did not retain the same expression a single instant.  When the smile which gave her a childlike appearance vanished, and any earnest feeling stirred her soul, she really resembled a mature maiden.  What a brilliant, versatile intellect must animate this remarkable creature!  Lienhard, shrewd and highly educated as he was, seemed to be completely absorbed in his neighbour; nay, in his animated conversation with her he entirely forgot the beautiful wife at his side; at least, while Kuni looked down at him, he did not bestow a single glance upon her.  Now he shook his finger mischievously at the child, but he seemed to be seeking, in mingled amusement and perplexity, to find a fitting answer.  And how brightly Lienhard’s