know what had befallen the Vorchtels, and to give the old man some token
of sympathy! What could have caused him so much sorrow? Only a few
hours before her father had returned from a gay entertainment at his
house. It could scarcely concern Herr Berthold's wife, his daughter
Ursula, or either of his two vigorous sons. Perhaps death had only
bereft him of some more distant, though beloved relative, yet surely she
would have known that, for the Ortliebs were connected by marriage both
with the old gentleman and his wife.

Tortured by a presentiment of evil, Eva gazed after him, and also watched
for Heinz Schorlin among the people in the street. Must not anxiety for
her bring him hither, if he learned how near her house the fire was
burning?

Whenever a helmet or knight's baret appeared above the crowd she thought
that he was coming. Once she believed that she had certainly recognised
him, for a tall young man of knightly bearing appeared, not mounted, but
on foot, and stopped opposite to the Ortlieb house. That must be he!
But when he looked up to her window, the reflection of the fire showed
that the man who had made her heart beat so quickly was indeed a young
and handsome knight, but by no means the person for whom she had mistaken
him. It was Boemund Altrosen, famed as victor in many a tournament, who
when a boy had often been at the house of her uncle, Herr Pfinzing.
There was no mistaking his coal-black, waving locks. It was said that
the dark-blue sleeve of a woman's robe which he wore on his helmet in the
jousts belonged to the Countess von Montfort. She was his lady, for whom
he had won so many victories.

Heinz Schorlin had mentioned him at the ball as his friend, and told her
that the gallant knight would vainly strive to win the reckless countess.