Then we hired the hack and the horse which Goetz von Berlichingen used to use, and drove several miles into the country to visit the place called WEIBERTREU—­Wife’s Fidelity I suppose it means.  It was a feudal castle of the Middle Ages.  When we reached its neighborhood we found it was beautifully situated, but on top of a mound, or hill, round and tolerably steep, and about two hundred feet high.  Therefore, as the sun was blazing hot, we did not climb up there, but took the place on trust, and observed it from a distance while the horse leaned up against a fence and rested.  The place has no interest except that which is lent it by its legend, which is a very pretty one—­to this effect: 

THE LEGEND

In the Middle Ages, a couple of young dukes, brothers, took opposite sides in one of the wars, the one fighting for the Emperor, the other against him.  One of them owned the castle and village on top of the mound which I have been speaking of, and in his absence his brother came with his knights and soldiers and began a siege.  It was a long and tedious business, for the people made a stubborn and faithful defense.  But at last their supplies ran out and starvation began its work; more fell by hunger than by the missiles of the enemy.  They by and by surrendered, and begged for charitable terms.  But the beleaguering prince was so incensed against them for their long resistance that he said he would spare none but the women and children—­all men should be put to the sword without exception, and all their goods destroyed.  Then the women came and fell on their knees and begged for the lives of their husbands.

“No,” said the prince, “not a man of them shall escape alive; you yourselves shall go with your children into houseless and friendless banishment; but that you may not starve I grant you this one grace, that each woman may bear with her from this place as much of her most valuable property as she is able to carry.”

Very well, presently the gates swung open and out filed those women carrying their husbands on their shoulders.  The besiegers, furious at the trick, rushed forward to slaughter the men, but the Duke stepped between and said: 

“No, put up your swords—­a prince’s word is inviolable.”

When we got back to the hotel, King Arthur’s Round Table was ready for us in its white drapery, and the head waiter and his first assistant, in swallow-tails and white cravats, brought in the soup and the hot plates at once.

Mr. X had ordered the dinner, and when the wine came on, he picked up a bottle, glanced at the label, and then turned to the grave, the melancholy, the sepulchral head waiter and said it was not the sort of wine he had asked for.  The head waiter picked up the bottle, cast his undertaker-eye on it and said: 

“It is true; I beg pardon.”  Then he turned on his subordinate and calmly said, “Bring another label.”