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Being asked his preference in wine, he replied that yesterday he had been regaled with a very excellent sample of Oberweseler. "That is from this neighborhood," replied the Count. "Oberwesel lies but a very short distance below, on the opposite side of the river, but we contend that our beverage of Caub is at least equal, and sometimes superior. You shall try a good vintage of both.

The Archbishop's eyes twinkled as he looked across the table at Hildegunde. "This seems to be a time of Royal betrothals," he said, raising his flagon. "'Seems' is the right word, Guardian," replied the Countess. Then she sipped the ancient wine of Caub. Next morning Hildegunde was early afoot.

It was only too evident that the Archbishop of Cologne was bitterly disappointed, for he rode silently by her side making no attempt at conversation. They rested for several hours during midday, arriving at Caub before the red sun set, and now the Countess saw her pinnacled prison lying like an anchored ship in midstream.

The French, on the opposite side, were asleep; they did not perceive Field-Marshal Blucher, who, at Caub, on the bank of the river, was halting on horse back by the side of his faithful Gneisenau, apparently listening in breathless suspense.

"That is the Pfalz, and the town on the right is Caub. A toll was paid here by all vessels navigating the river. The Duke of Nassau inherited the right to levy this tax, and exercised the right to collect it, until three or four years ago. The Pfalz was his toll-house. In the middle ages, thirty-two tolls were levied at the different stations on the river. Schönberg Castle is on the left.

In front, at a little distance, was the castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, and from the heights above Caub frowned the crumbling citadel of Gutenfels. Imagine all this, and tell me if it is not a picture whose memory should last a lifetime. We came at last to Bingen, the southern gate of the highlands.

Its ancient name of Caub, or Chaube, still clings to the town above which it towers majestically. In the thirteenth century Caub was the habitation of Sir Philip of Falkenstein and his sister Guta, the latter justly acclaimed as the most beautiful woman in Germany.

At Caub they were met by a bearded, truculent-looking ruffian, who introduced himself to the Archbishop as the Pfalzgraf von Stahleck. "You take us rather by surprise, Prince of Cologne," he said.

This was to be effected at three different points Mannheim, Caub, and Coblentz. The grand, all-important moment had come; midnight was at hand. It was a clear and beautiful night; the deep-blue sky was spangled with stars, and the air cold and bracing. None saw the blank columns moving toward the Rhine.

Where she stood the air was crystal clear, and she seemed to be looking out on a broad snow-field of purest white. Beyond Caub its surface was pierced by the dozen sharp pinnacles of her future prison, looking like a bed of spikes, upon which one might imagine a giant martyr impaled by the verdict of a cruel Archbishop.