“Do you consent, Madam?”

“Yes,” gasped the girl, her shoulders quivering with emotion, but she did not look up.

“I fear that the object of this convocation was like to be forgotten in the gush of sentiment issuing from both sides of me.  This is a business meeting, and not a love-feast.  Will you do me the courtesy, Madam, of raising your head and answering my question?”

The girl dashed the tears from her eyes, and sat up straight, grasping with nervous hands the arms of the throne, as if to steady herself against the coming ordeal.

“I scarcely heard what you said.  Do you consent to marry Prince Roland of Germany?”

“I have consented,” she replied firmly.

“Will you use your influence with him that he may carry out the behests of the three Archbishops?”

“Yes, if the behests are for the good of the country.”

“I cannot accept any qualifications, therefore I repeat my question.  Will you use your influence with him that he may carry out the behests of the three Archbishops?”

“I can have no influence with such a man.”

“Answer my question, Madam.”

“Say yes, Hildegunde,” pleaded Cologne.

She turned to him swimming eyes.

“Oh, Guardian, Guardian!” she cried, “I have done everything I can, and all for you; all for you.  I cannot stand any more.  This is torture to me.  Let me go home, and another day when I am calmer I will answer your questions!”

The perturbed Archbishop sat back again with a deep sigh.  The ignorance of women with which his colleague of Treves had credited all three was being amazingly dispelled.  He could not understand why this girl should show such emotion at the thought of marrying the heir to the throne, when assured the young man was all that any reasonable woman could desire.

“Madam, I pray you give your attention to me,” said the unimpassioned voice of Mayence.  “I have listened to your conversation with my colleagues, and the patience I exhibited will, I hope, be credited to me.  This matter of business”—­he emphasized the word—­“must be settled to-day, and to clear away all misapprehension, I desire to say that your guardian has really no influence on this matter.  It was settled before you came into the room.  You are merely allowed a choice of two outcomes:  first, marriage with Prince Roland; second, imprisonment in Pfalz Castle, situated in the middle of the Rhine.”

“What is that?” demanded the Countess.

“I am tired of repeating my statements.”

“You would imprison me—­me, a Countess of Sayn?”

Again the tears evaporated, and in their place came the smoldering fire bequeathed to her by the Crusaders, and, if the truth must be known, by Rhine robbers as well.

“Yes, Madam.  A predecessor of mine once hanged one of your ancestors.”

“It is not true,” cried the girl, in blazing wrath. “’Twas the Emperor Rudolph who hanged him; the same Emperor that chastised an Archbishop of Mayence, and brought him, cringing, to his knees, begging for pardon, which the Emperor contemptuously flung to him.  You dare not imprison me!”