haired Baroness, the only one in all the world with whom the
fierce lord of Drachenhausen softened to gentleness, the only
one upon whom his savage brows looked kindly, and to whom his
harsh voice softened with love.

The Baroness was talking to her husband in a low voice, as he
looked down into her pale face, with its gentle blue eyes.

"And wilt thou not, then," said she, "do that one thing for me?"

"Nay," he growled, in his deep voice, "I cannot promise thee
never more to attack the towns-people in the valley over yonder.
How else could I live an' I did not take from the fat town hogs
to fill our own larder?"

"Nay," said the Baroness, "thou couldst live as some others do,
for all do not rob the burgher folk as thou dost. Alas! mishap
will come upon thee some day, and if thou shouldst be slain,
what then would come of me?"

"Prut," said the Baron, "thy foolish fears" But he laid his rough,
hairy hand softly upon the Baroness' head and stroked her
yellow hair.

"For my sake, Conrad," whispered the Baroness.

A pause followed. The Baron sat looking thoughtfully down into
the Baroness' face. A moment more, and he might have promised
what she besought; a moment more, and he might have been saved
all the bitter trouble that was to follow. But it was not to be.