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Updated: May 25, 2025
"But, mother, what are you saying! Something disloyal, was it not?" "Well, Ebbo, I was very angry that he should have half killed you when he could so easily have spoken one word. Heaven forgive me if I did wrong, but I could not help it." "Did HE forgive you, mother?" said Ebbo, anxiously. "He oh yes.
"And guildmaster of none," said Ebbo, "save as a warrior; the rest only enough for a gentleman! For what I am thou must be!" But Ebbo did not find fault with the skill Friedel was bestowing on his work a carving in wood of a dove brooding over two young eagles- -the device that both were resolved to assume.
"Like a malapert peacock, say I," returned Ebbo; "didst not see, Friedel, how he kept his eyes on her in church? My uncle says the Bohemians are mere deceivers. Depend on it the woman had spied his insolent looks when she made her ribald prediction." "See," said Friedel, who had been watching the steps rather than attending, "it will be easy to dance it now.
"Welcome, Herr Ritter," he said; "I am sorry we have been unable to give you a fitter reception." "No host could be more fully excused than you," said the stranger, and Ebbo started at his voice. "I fear you have suffered much, and still have much to suffer." "My sword wound is healing fast," said Ebbo; "it is the shot in my broken thigh that is so tedious and painful."
"I know not," said Friedel, "but it is to me as if I were taking my leave of all these purple hollows and heaven-lighted peaks cleaving the sky. All the more, Ebbo, since I have made up my mind to a resolution." "Nay, none of the old monkish fancies," cried Ebbo, "against them thou art sworn, so long as I am true knight."
"Will she be able to speak to the priest?" asked Ebbo. "Priest!" feebly screamed the old woman. "No priest for me! My lord died unshriven, unassoilzied. Where he is, there will I be. Let a priest approach me at his peril!" Stony insensibility ensued; nor did she speak again, though life lasted many hours longer.
Even this matter of homage, that seemed so hard to my Ebbo, has now been made easy to him by his veneration for the Emperor." It was even so.
Considerate as his visitor had been the night before, the pleasure of talk seemed to have done away with the remembrance of his host's weakness, till Ebbo so flagged that at last he was scarcely alive to more than the continued sound of the voice, and all the pain that for a while had been in abeyance seemed to have mastered him; but his guest, half reading his books, half discoursing, seemed too much immersed in his own plans, theories, and adventures, to mark the condition of his auditor.
And feeling no longer solitary when his hand was in the clasp of hers, he returned to the hall, where his father was installed in the baronial chair, in which Ebbo had been at home from babyhood.
And bitter had been her weeping through all the early light hours of the long morning weeping that she tried to think was all for Ermentrude; and all, amid prayers she could scarce trust herself to offer, that the generous, kindly nature might yet work free of these evil surroundings, and fulfil the sister's dying wish, she should never see it; but, when she should hear that the Debateable Ford was the Friendly Ford, then would she know that it was the doing of the Good Baron Ebbo.
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