herdsman's hut--fortunately an empty one. Now, also, his heedlessness
had set in motion a mass which constantly rolled onward, and how terrible
might be the harm it would do!

If Hartmann, the Emperor's son, were only there! He confided everything
to him, for he was sure of his silence. Both his duty as a knight and
his conscience forbade him to relate his experiences and ask counsel from
any one else.

He was still absorbed in these gloomy thoughts when, just before reaching
the Walch, he heard Biberli's deep sigh. Here, behind and beside the
frames of the cloth weavers, stood the tents before which the followers
and soldiers of the princes and dignitaries who had come to the Reichstag
were still sitting around the camp fire, carousing and laughing.

Any interruption was welcome to him, and to Biberli it seemed like a
deliverance to be permitted to use his poor endangered tongue, for his
master had asked what grief oppressed him.

"If you desired to know what trouble did not burden my soul I could find
a speedier answer," replied Biberli piteously. "Oh, this night, my lord!
What has it not brought upon us and others! Look at the black clouds
rising in the south. They are like the dark days impending over us poor
mortals."

Then he confided to Heinz his fears for himself and Katterle. The
knight's assurance that he would intercede for him and, if necessary,
even appeal to the Emperor's favour, somewhat cheered his servitor's
drooping spirits, it is true, but by no means restored his composure,
and his tone was lugubrious enough as he went on: