flight of stone steps which led far upward to the platform edged by the
parapet from which the spring was to be made. The young man walked up
and down the promenade, unheeding those around him, seeming like one in
a dream, groping for something he failed to find. The onlookers watched
him curiously, wondering at his change of demeanour.

Suddenly he dropped his sword on the stones at his feet, held up his
hands and cried aloud:

"I have jumped from here before--when I was a lad--a baby almost--I
remember it all now--where am I--when was I here before--where is my
wooden sword--and where is Conrad, who made it--Conrad, where are you?"

The captain was the first to realise what had happened. He stepped
hurriedly forward, scrutinising his late prisoner, the light of
recognition, in his eyes.

"It is the young master," he shouted. "My Lord Count, this is no
kinsman of the Outlaw, but your own son, a man grown."

The Count stood amazed, as incapable of motion as a statue of stone;
the countess, gazing with dreamy eyes, seemed trying to adjust her
inward vision of the lad of four with the outward reality of the man of
twenty-one. In the silence rose the clear sweet voice of Elsa without
the walls, her face upturned like a painting of the Madonna, her hands
clasped in front of her.

"Dear Virgin Mother in Heaven, I thank thee that my prayer was not
unheard, and bear me witness that I have kept my oath--I have kept my
oath, and may Thy intervention show a proud and sinful people the