All was still in Master Pernharts’ house; he himself had gone to rest.  At Herdegen’s bidding we followed him into the hall, and there he clasped Ann to his heart, and declared to us that now, and henceforth for ever, they were one.  Whereupon we each and all embraced; but my friend clung longest to me, and whispered in my ear that she was happier than ever she could deserve to be.  Herdegen asked me whether now he had made all right, and whether I would be the same old Margery again?  And I right gladly put up my lips for his to kiss; and the returned prodigal, who had come back to that which was his best portion, was like one drunk with wine.  He was beside himself with joy, so that he clasped first me and then Hans in his arms, and slapped Eppelein, who carried a lantern to show us the pools left by the storm of rain, again and again on the shoulder, and thrust a purse full of money into his free hand, albeit there was an end now of my grand-uncle’s golden bounty.  Nought would persuade him to go back to the dancing-hall, to meet Ursula and her kin; and when he presently departed from us we heard him along the street, singing such a love song as no false heart may imagine, as glad as the larks which would now ere long be soaring to the sky.

We got back to the great hall.  The dancing and music were yet at their height; our absence we deemed had scarce been marked; howbeit, as soon as we entered, my grand-uncle made enquiry “where Herdegen might be,” and when I looked about me at haphazard I beheld—­my eyes did not cheat me—­ I beheld Mistress Henneleinlein in one of the side-stalls.

No man told me, yet was I sure and certain that she was saying somewhat which concerned me, and presently I discerned in the dim back-ground the feathered plume which Ursula had worn at the dance.  My heart beat with fears; every word spoken by the old Dame would of a surety do us a mischief.  Hans mocked at my alarms and at a maid’s folly in ever taking to herself matters which concern her not.

Then Ursula came forth into the hall again, and how she swept past us on Junker Henning’s arm.

A young knight of the Palatinate now led me out to a dance I had erewhile promised him.

We stopped for lack of breath.  The festival was over; yet did Ursula and the Junker walk together.  He was hearkening eagerly to all she might say, and on a sudden he clapped his hand into hers which she held out to him, and his eyes, which he had held set on the floor, fired up with a flash.  Presently he and the Knight von Rochow made their way, arm in arm through the press, and both were laughing and pulling their long red beards.