CHAPTER III.
THE FESTIVAL.
The festival was indeed begun.

Coming on horseback, or in their caroches, knights and ladies of the highest rank were assembled in the grand saloon of Godesberg, which was splendidly illuminated to receive them.

Servitors, in rich liveries, (they were attired in doublets of the sky-blue broadcloth of Ypres, and hose of the richest yellow sammit--the colors of the house of Godesberg,) bore about various refreshments on trays of silver--cakes, baked in the oven, and swimming in melted butter; manchets of bread, smeared with the same delicious condiment, and carved so thin that you might have expected them to take wing and fly to the ceiling; coffee, introduced by Peter the Hermit, after his excursion into Arabia, and tea such as only Bohemia could produce, circulated amidst the festive throng, and were eagerly devoured by the guests.

The Margrave's gloom was unheeded by them--how little indeed is the smiling crowd aware of the pangs that are lurking in the breasts of those who bid them to the feast! The Margravine was pale; but woman knows how to deceive; she was more than ordinarily courteous to her friends, and laughed, though the laugh was hollow, and talked, though the talk was loathsome to her.
"The two are together," said the Margrave, clutching his friend's shoulder.

"NOW LOOK!" Sir Ludwig turned towards a quadrille, and there, sure enough, were Sir Hildebrandt and young Otto standing side by side in the dance.