Part 58 (1/2)

I took her by the hand.

”Little one,” I whispered, as tenderly as I could, ”I would not be worthily your husband if I went not to meet those who are fighting to save us all this night. They have come from far to deliver us. I were false and recreant if I went not to their a.s.sistance.”

”I know--I know,” she said. ”Go!”

And with that she gave a hand to the good Bishop and went quietly within, with no more than a smile over her shoulder, like a watery April sun-glint.

Then I betook me with all speed to the Weiss Thor, where I judged the chief struggle would take place. And as I came I heard the rattle of shot and the jarring thunder of the forehammers. The soldiers without shouted, and the men within more feebly replied.

I came in sight of the gate. There on my left hand was the house of Master Gerard von Sturm.

A fire was still flickering upon the tower of it.

Without I could hear the cheering and clamoring of the besiegers. But the gates remained obstinately shut. They were stronger than the Prince had antic.i.p.ated.

As _I_ stood, uncertain what to do, I saw a slim white figure, the figure of a woman, flash across the open s.p.a.ce towards the gate. The men who defended the gate towers were all upon the top of the wall. Before any could stop her she had thrown herself upon the wheel by which the bars were unfastened, and with a few turns had drawn them as deftly as evil Duke Casimir had been wont to remove the teeth of the rich Hebrew folk when he wanted supplies.

The White Gate slowly opened upon creaking hinges. The faces of the soldiers of Pla.s.senburg were seen without, the weapons gleamed in their hands as they came on shouting fiercely. The guards of the Duke rushed forward to close the gate. But the woman had clamped the wheel and stood holding the bar.

It was the Lady Ysolinde. She saw me as the soldiers of Duke Otho closed threateningly upon her. She waved her hand to me almost happily.

”_I have saved my soul, Hugo Gottfried_!” she cried. ”_I have saved my soul_!”

At that moment a soldier of the Black Riders struck her fiercely with his lance. I saw the white bosom of her dress redden as he plucked his weapon to him again. I was in time to catch her in my arms as the soldiers of Pla.s.senburg, with Prince Karl at their head, came through the White Gate like a spring-tide, carrying all before them.

The Prince stayed at his wife's side.

”Ysolinde!” cried the Prince, aghast, bending over her--not heeding, nor indeed, as I think, even seeing me.

”Karl!” she said, looking gently at him, ”try and forgive me all the rest. But be glad that I opened the White Gate for yon. I, Ysolinde, your wife, did it for your sake.”

I put her into her husband's arms. I saw at a glance that there was no hope. She could not live many moments with that lance-thrust through her breast.

She looked at him again.

”Karl--say 'Ysolinde, I love you!'” she whispered, almost shyly.

He looked down, and a rush of unwonted tears came to the eyes of the Prince of Pla.s.senburg.

”Ysolinde, I love you!” he made answer, in a broken voice.

She smiled, and then looked over his shoulder up at me.

_”Hugo Gottfried, have I not saved my soul?”_ she cried.

And so pa.s.sed.

CHAPTER LVI

HELENA, PRINCESS OF PLa.s.sENBURG