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Updated: June 24, 2025
"That door is locked too," replied the others, jubilantly. "They are all prisoners in the castle!" "Sir," cried Eliza, drawing Ulrich von Hohenberg back from the balcony, "you may come with me into the dining-room; I must tell you something." "No," he said, "I shall stay here and see what is the matter." "What does this mean?
Ulrich von Hohenberg was still holding his ground; his sword had spread destruction and death around him; he was still encouraging his soldiers with loud shouts, but his voice was beginning to grow faint, and his blood was running from a terrible wound in his shoulder. "To the rescue, soldiers?" he shouted now with a last effort, "do not suffer your captain to be slain by miserable peasants.
With a hollow groan, crushed, and as if broken-hearted, Eliza sank back into her chair, and her pale lips murmured "Now I am lost, and so is he?" "Ulrich von Hohenberg," shouted the priest at the altar, "come hither and take your bride by the hand." The door of the vestry opened, and Ulrich von Hohenberg stepped in.
"Here I am!" shouted a powerful voice above the heads of the Tyrolese; and, looking up in great surprise, they beheld on the balcony young Captain Ulrich von Hohenberg, with a pale face, his features distorted with rage and grief, and stretching out his right arm, with his flashing sword menacingly toward the Tyrolese.
"Thank you, dear Schroepfel," said Eliza, "but pray admit me now." Schroepfel withdrew his settee from the door and allowed Eliza to open it, and, entering to the prisoner, closed it again behind her. Ulrich von Hohenberg still sat, as Schroepfel had seen him, at the table, leaning his head on his hand; only he had now covered his eyes with his hands, and long sighs issued from his breast.
Father himself wished me to go to the young lady as heretofore, for he said it would look suspicious if I should stay away all of a sudden. Therefore I went to see my dear friend Eliza von Hohenberg every day, and I always met there her cousin, the captain of the Bavarian soldiers. He is a very kind-hearted and merry gentleman, mother, and it is no fault of his that he is a Bavarian.
Yes, yes, you will die of grief, for you still love Ulrich von Hohenberg." "No," cried Eliza, vehemently, blushing deeply, "I do not love him. I have buried my love in my heart, and it reposes there as in a shrine. It is true I think of it very often, I pray to it, but I have no unholy thoughts and feel no sinful desires.
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