It had been after a wild ride homeward that Erna met Albrecht and turned away from him. When she dashed away from Count Stephen in the forest the tears had gathered so thickly in her eyes that she was perforce minded to trust to the instincts of her palfrey rather than to her own guidance to bring her home to Rittenberg. Perchance they were tears of remorse, of rage, of indignation, and perhaps not a little of excitement. Her horse made his way bravely along the bridle-path, now brushing the thickly set ferns and brambles, now skirting close to the banks of the frothy river, and anon hurrying through the gathering shadows of the black pine-wood; and still it seemed to Erna as if she were fleeing from a pursuer who might at any moment rush upon her. She felt that her only safety lay in her husband's arms, and with the thought came a bitter pang in the sense of the wrong she had done Albrecht in listening so long to the whispered love-making of her cousin.

And it befell Erna, as she rode home thus swiftly through the forest, to come in mind to a burning sense of the change which had befallen her since she had bidden Count Stephen farewell when he set out for Strasburg. She seemed to look back from the depths to that height of purity and virtue where she then stood, and it was with the pricking of despair most profound that she felt how great was the distance between what she was and what she had been. A sob of passion and of terror rose in her throat as she thought of her husband, and for perhaps the first time since their marriage she appreciated how he had risen from what he had been. She did not realize that although she had been sinking, it was from her that Albrecht had gained his inspiration, and that it was he who had awakened in her those desires and instincts which had been her temptation. She only felt degraded and unworthy to stand before him, but with all the love of her heart she longed to fall at his feet and implore his forgiveness.

And yet how could she confess to him how she had fallen? She could not tell him that she had been kissed in the forest by another than himself, and she feared if she might compass that he should understand that after all she was not to blame. She had but been friendly to her cousin; had listened to him as any lady might listen to a knight who was handsome and debonair, and had responded only as might the dame of a castle to her guest, or at most as might one reply to a gallant warrior of her own blood. It had been but a glance now, and a pressure of the hand then; a whispered word, a sigh with which the count had looked into her eyes; and until to-day there had been nothing more. To-day——

Her cheeks glowed with the remembrance of that fervent kiss! She thrilled again with the ardor of the glances with which Count Stephen had regarded her as they rode to the meadows where the falcons had been thrown off, and when now and then his eyes had encountered hers as they watched the flight of the birds.

"My falcon outsaileth thine," he had murmured, "but his master's heart can never leave thee!"

She lashed her palfrey afresh as she recalled the words; they seemed to be again whispered into her ears, as if the sprites of the wood had heard them and repeated them to her shame and bewilderment. Her thoughts whirled through her head as the band of the Wild Huntsman, tempest-driven, might sweep through the forest. Had she forgotten, then, her love for her husband, she questioned herself, or was it that she had been bewitched and entangled perchance in the meshes of wicked sorcery? Surely, could she once take shelter in the arms of Albrecht and feel his strong clasp about her, she should be safe from these wild and sinful thoughts. She fled ever faster, hearing in the echoes of the hoof-beats of her own palfrey the trampling of Count Stephen's steed behind her.

Yet when she indeed stood face to face with Albrecht, it has been told how his calm and his seeming coldness did so repel and chill her that she was fain to escape from him without delay. He was to her as one withdrawn from the turmoil and the temptation of things earthly; and although she misjudged him gravely, yet none the less did she hasten speedily to her chamber, there to be alone with herself, that she might calm her mind and do away with the signs of agitation which Count Stephen would too surely mark on his coming.

She had scarcely reached the quiet of her chamber when she heard the hunt come clattering into the courtyard below, and the cries of page and groom as the horses were led away, and the............