daybreak, I must record one more; for the new day, which dawned with no
hue of rose, grey and dismal over the tawny woods, brought us fresh
sorrow and evil.

Behind the moss-hut, wherein I had found my Herdegen with the dancing
hussy, the Swabian Junker and Ritter Franz had fought, without any heed
of the law and order of such combat--fought for life or death, and for my
sake. And as though in this cruel time I were doomed to go through all
that should worst wound my poor heart, I must need go forth to see the
stricken limetree at that very moment when the Junker had dealt his enemy
a deadly stroke and came rushing away with his hair all abroad like a mad
man. It was indeed a merciful chance that my Uncle Conrad and the
chaplain likewise had come forth to the garden, so that I might go with
them to see the wounded knight.

The youth was lying on the wet grass, now much paler than ever, and his
lips trembling with pain. A faded leaf had fallen on his brow and was
strange to behold against his ashen skin; but I bent me down and took it
off. By him was lying the uprooted limetree, from which that leaf had
fallen, and whereas the rain was dropping from it fast, meseemed it was
weeping.

And my heart was knit as it never had been before, to this young knight
who had shed his blood in my behalf; but while I gazed down right
lovingly into his face the Swabian came close up to him with ruthful
eyes, and from those of the wounded man there shot at me a glance so full
of hate and malice that I shuddered before it. This was an end, then, to
all pity and tenderness. And yet, as I looked on his cold, set face, as
pale and white as dull chalk, I could not forbear tears; for it is ever
pitiful to see when death overtakes one who is not ripe for dying, as we