"Some archers are snobs, as your ladyship states; some, on the contrary, are gentlemen by birth, at least, though not by breeding.

Witness young Otto, the Landgrave of Godesberg's son, who is listening at the door like a lackey, and whom I intend to run through the--" "Law, Baron!" said the lady.
"I will, though," replied the Baron, drawing an immense sword, and glaring round at Otto: but though at the sight of that sword and that scowl a less valorous youth would have taken to his heels, the undaunted Childe advanced at once into the apartment.

He wore round his neck a relic of St.Buffo (the tip of the saint's ear, which had been cut off at Constantinople).

"Fiends! I command you to retreat!" said he, holding up this sacred charm, which his mamma had fastened on him; and at the sight of it, with an unearthly yell the ghosts of the Baron and the Baroness sprung back into their picture-frames, as clowns go through a clock in a pantomime.
He rushed through the open door by which the unlucky Wolfgang had passed with his demoniacal bride, and went on and on through the vast gloomy chambers lighted by the ghastly moonshine: the noise of the organ in the chapel, the lights in the kaleidoscopic windows, directed him towards that edifice.

He rushed to the door: 'twas barred! He knocked: the beadles were deaf.