Then appeared my Lord Duke Otho.  An enclosure had been formed for him by the palace wall, covered with a red hanging, as though my sweetheart’s death were a gala sight.  And when he had come to the front and arranged his folk, lo! there by his side stood Ysolinde, Princess of Plassenburg, with her father, Master Gerard.  They had a place close by the Duke, and Otho ofttimes bent over to confer graciously with his councillor.  But Ysolinde looked neither to right nor left, nor yet spoke to any, keeping her eyes fixed, as it seemed, on the shining blade of the Red Axe in my hand.

Then, as these fine folk stood waiting and gloating among the festoons of their balcony, the devil or God (I know which, but I will not say, lest I be thought a blasphemer) put an intent into my heart.  I walked to the edge of the scaffold, and I looked at the barrier of the enclosure.  They were of the same height, and the distance between them little more than six feet.

I examined them again, and yet more intently.  I saw the steely smile on Duke Otho’s face.  Already he was tasting the double sweetness of his revenge.

“Wait,” I said, within my heart, as I also smiled a little, “only wait a little, Otho, Duke of the Wolfmark.  Wait till this bright edge be sullied with my sweet love’s blood.  And then—­then will I leap upon you, and the Red Axe shall crash deep into the brain that hatched and fostered this hellish intent.  And by the gentle heart of her who is about to die, so also will I serve Gerard the lawyer, and Ysolinde, his daughter, for their treachery against the innocent.  Then, amid the flash of steel and the heady whirl of battle, shall Hugo Gottfried be very content to die!” It would take more than one stroke to dull that which my father had sharpened.  And I lifted up the Red Axe and felt the edge with my thumb.  It was razor keen.

But the action was observed, and taken as a proof of callousness.  And then what a yell of hate surged up around me!  I could have taken those burghers of Thorn to my heart.  And I thought if only our Karl would come.  Alas! it was a full day too soon; for I felt sure that these burghers would proclaim him at the gates, and that the house of Otho and Casimir, the brood of the Wolf, would, like the shadow of the raven as it flits by in the sunshine, pass away.  For by that time there would be no Otho.  They would find him low enough, with an axe cleft in his head.

So soon as the sun’s light tipped the eastern clouds with rose, the Black Hussars came riding forth.  The guards and matchlock men lined the way from the castle gates.  They blew up their matches to be ready.  Suddenly in the midst of the armed throng there appeared a radiant figure coming down the steps of the castle from the Hall of Judgment.

At the sight the people threw themselves wildly in that direction.  The dark lines of the guard reeled and wavered.  There was the sharp click as the pikes engaged.  The shouts of the captains of the matchlock men were heard.  But the trained bands stood fast, and the rush was stayed.  Then came our Helene down towards me, walking delicately, yet proudly erect as a young tree.  She was clad all in white and wore her hair plaited high upon her head, so that the shape of her neck was clearly seen.