"Once upon a time, Schwanhild, the ancestress of my family, flew in the feather dress of a swan over the earth; since then the last wing-feathers of the swan have been the holy token which the men and women of my race bear on their helmets and frontlets, when they are festively adorned. We endeavor to rob living birds of their feathers; for to kill a swan is a crime among my people. Today I have succeeded in gaining this ornament. To thee, friend, I offer it, if thou wilt accept and keep it. On the quill I have scratched the mark whereby I denote what is mine."

Irmgard was frightened; she guessed that he offered her through the feathers what he dared not say in words, and she asked uncertainly, "How shall that be mine which is thine?"

The man answered with deep emotion, "I only love life because I know a noble maiden who will at some time bear this token on her head before all the world." And he again held the ornament to her. Then Irmgard took the feather, and concealed it in her dress. His hand just slightly touched hers, but she felt the touch in her inmost heart.

"Irmgard!" cried out the Princess from the house, in a tone of command.

The two exchanged one more hearty greeting with their eyes, and the noble maiden then hastened to the house.

"What did the stranger say to thee just now?" began the mother to her daughter; "his hand touched thine, and I saw a blush on thy cheeks."

"He showed me the wing-feather of a bird, which is the mark of recognition of his race when the heroes bear it on their heads," answered Irmgard; but again a tell-tale blush passed over her cheeks.

"I once heard a fool who raised her voice aloud in the hall of men, so that all remained silent, as the forest songsters are silent with a young cuckoo begins its cooing."

"Was it presumptuous in me to point him out? It was not indecorous; my heart was full, and my friends will forgive me; do not thou, mother, be angry with me."

But the Princess continued:

"It gives me no pleasure to see the stranger remaining at our hearth. It becomes the master of the house to be hospitable to suppliants, but the mistress of the house must hold the keys with a firm hand, that the property may not be squandered; and she guards her poulty-yard, that the martens may not make their way in. If the stranger by his leap over the horses thought to leap into the inheritance of my lord, into provision-chamber and kitchen, his bold spirit will avail him little. But thou, as thou art my daughter, shouldst keep at a distance from one who lives as a wild man, homeless, banished, and as poor as the traveling beggar who begs for alms at our gate."

Irmgard raised herself up proudly:

"Of whom dost thou speak, Princess? Dost thou mean the hero to whom the master of the house has offered the seat of honor? The innocent one, who came to us in confidence upon the oath of my father? I have heard that the father of my father mixed in a holy drink drops of his blood with the blood of a king's race, that their descendants might keep love and honor to one another. If the son of that King is a stranger to others, in the house of my grandfather none ought to call him so; thou thyself least of all."

"As I hear thy insolent speech," exclaimed the mother, "the old sorrow revives in my heart, that thy brother is no longer among the living. On the unhappy day on which he was slain by one of the King's men, thou becamest the only child of my care, and ill thou rewardest thy mother.

"Were my brother alive, he also would desire, as the highest honor, to be the companion in war of the hero whom thou insultest as a beggar."

"Since thy brother has vanished from this earth, thou hast become the inheritor of this country, and thy mother has to consider to whom thy father should marry thee."

"If I am the inheritor in this house, I am also an inheritor of alliance duties and sworn oaths; and I intend to keep them truly. I have never refused honor to thy kindred --- neither to uncle Sintram, nor to thy nephew Theodulf, whatever I may think of them in my heart; but thou must not blame me if I also show love to those who are friends of my father's family."

"Be silent, thou stubborn one," answered the mother, angrily; "too long has the Prince's will kept thee at home; it is time that thy haughty spirit should be controlled by marriage."

As the Princess left the room, Irmgard stood with looks transfixed, holding her hands clasped closely together.

"The Princess speaks harshly to the maidens," began Frida, entering; "in the milk-cellar the cream is turned."

"She is severe also against others," answered Irmgard, with difficulty striving for words. "Be thou true to me, for I have no one whom I can trust but thee, if thou hast courage to bear the displeasure of the Princess."

"I am a free woman; and I have promised to be a companion to thee, not to the mistress of the house; and for thy sake I remain in the Prince's house, although my father desires to have me at home. Many a time have we overcome the anger of the Princess, as, believe me, we shall also do now, concerning what afflicts thee."

"My mother has become angry with our guest, to whom at first she was so kindly disposed, and I fear he will not be properly cared for; as when the mistress does not gie directions the maidens are careless."

"Thou mayest be free from anxiety, as young Wolf is his chamberlain. If I gave the boy permission, he would tell me more of his master than we wish to hear."

"Let me hear everything," said Irmgard; "for it is well to know what guests need."

"And we shall learn easily from one to another," cried Frida, laughing. "Far better do I like the guest than the water-heron Theodulf, who carries his head so proudly. And this I say to thee --- when Theodulf's wooers come to the house, and assent is given to their coming, then shall they find a broom in front of the door at which they go out, that they may guess what we maidens think of their wooing."

After these bold words Irmgard concealed her face with her hands; tears ran through her fingers; her whole body shook with anguish.

Frida embraced the princely girl in her arms, and knelt down before her, giving her kisses and tender words.

It did not happen accidentally that, a short time after the conversation between mother and daughter, the Hero Sintram rode up to the house. In the room of the Princess he sat long with the host in confidential converse; he was conferring once again on the subject of the wooing of his relation, Theodulf; for so long as this nobleman was bound as a court attendant and by oath of service to the Prince, the formal wooing could not take place. But on the twelfth night of the New Year the Prince was to release him from his oath; then Theodulf would make his entrance as a free wooer, and the marriage might take place in the spring. All was determined --- even the bridal presents and dowry --- and the Princess advised that the men should renew to each other their old promise concerning this secret arrangement. Sintram smiled with pleasure as he again mounted his horse, and when the host led him out of the door, and there unobservedly took leave with a warm pressure of the hand, the departing guest altogether neglected the broom which the angry Frida had placed by the side of the door; Theodulf only, who had come up at the departure, gave the broom a kick with his foot that sent it a long way off, and cast on Frida in the court a look full of bitter hatred.

Thus passed, with ardent sun and storms, the glad summer. The fields were cleared, and the country folk were sociable. The more distinguished houses of the district desired in succession to entertain the guest; banquets alternated with hunting expeditions over the forest hills; and the Prince and Ingo were now seldom at home. The Prince conceived a still higher opinion of the guest when he saw in what repute he was held by the principal men of the district, and how distinguished and right-minded he showed himself. Of the anxieties in the apartments of the ladies the master of the house observed nothing; the prudent hostess was silent as to what might disturb the thoughts of her lord; she was contented that the Hero should roam away for weeks together. But Ingo perceived that Irmgard looked serious, and he was angry that it was so difficult for him to speak to her without witnesses.

Once Ingo rode with the Prince to the same spot which he trod when he first came over the mountain. In the forest yellow leaves fluttered to the ground; through the openings sounded the hunting calls of the men and the deep cry of the hounds. The well-fed cattle ran bellowing about; the herdsmen prepared for departure from the wilderness into the villages; and the maidens from the Prince's house were again occupied in lifting into the wagon the last load from the milk-cellar. While Answald was watching these preparations, Ingo stood next to Irmgard. The latter pointed to Frida, who was passing by with a milk-jug. "From this source thou didst quaff thy first drink with us, and there, where thou standest, I saw thee for the first time. Since then the cheerful green has disappeared, and the wild birds have flown away."

"From thy countenance also joy has vanished," replied Ingo, tenderly.

But Irmgard continued:

"Happy once were the exalted women who in feather dresses soared along wherever their wishes led them. I know a maiden who stands by the torrent, and longs for the heavenly power. She would like to work two feather garments for the swan and his mate; but vain is the wish, and she gazes sorrowfully after them, when the feathered flock soar from their fields into the distance."

"Confide in me," said Ingo in a low tone; "what disturbs thy mind?"

Irmgard was silent. "The day will come when others will tell thee, not I," she at last answered. "If thou tarry with us during the winter, I do not fear what anxieties it may bring ---."

"The conversation was interrupted by wild shouts and a foreign war-cry. Ingo rushed out; as before in the hall, his countenance lighted up with joy, while the other men sprang up in a body, and seized their weapons.

"They come in peace," exclaimed Bero's daughter; "my father rides among them." She pointed to a troop of horsemen who, rejoicing and swinging their spears, were rushing down from the height. Ingo hastened toward them; the riders sprang down, and surrounded the Hero; they held his arms, bent over his hands, and clasped his knees. Again and again sounded the wild cry of joy. Ingo called each individual by name, and embraced and kissed them, while tears fell from his eyes. His looks wandered from one to the other in vain search; for all did not stand alive before him whom he had hoped to greet. And yet the happiness of that hour was so great that he and the strangers long forgot the presence of the others. The Prince's men, who had been drawn out of the forest by the war-cry, gathered round him: tears were in his eyes also, and in those of the noble maiden, and they listened with absorbing interest to the rapid questions and answers, laughings and lamentations, of the strangers. Bero looked upon the troop more calmly, while he told the Prince, "I had ridden southward over our mountains, down as far as Idisbach, where the small people, the Marvingians, dwell, and as I was dealing with the people there about a herd of cattle, I fell in with this flight of wild geese that were seeking for their goose leader. I knew about them, and as their active manners pleased me, I brought them here."

Ingo approached the Prince:

"Forgive us, oh Prince, if in our joy we have forgotten to seek for thy favor. These men are banished, like myself; for my sake they abandoned their beloved home, and they also have neither parents nor friends; but to one another we are blood-brothers for life and death, and our pride is, that we honor one another, and share fortune and misfortune, as long as we remain homeless wanderers on the earth. On their true hearts alone rests the throne of poor Ingo; where they lay their heads down, there must his also repose. Thou hast received me kindly; but now I have become a host, and I am uncertain what thy views may be about me."