“That is a good story,” said Mary Frances.
“Yes,” said the Story King; “the stories of those who risk their lives for others are the best of all our stories.”
“Yes,” agreed the Story Queen; “they are the best of all.”
“Now,” said the Story Lady, “we come to our fourth story.”
ON the summit of one of the heights of a wild country district along the Rhine, there stood many years ago an old castle. In this castle lived a beautiful maiden with her father and two elderly aunts.
Her father was a jolly old nobleman, very fond of his beer, and very fond of hearing himself talk, too. He enjoyed his own jokes better than anyone else, perhaps.
Even so, his dearest possession was his beautiful daughter, his only child. He loved her as the apple of his eye, and wished to give her all happiness.
She had little chance of being lonely, for there were always a large number of poor relatives visiting the nobleman, and indeed they made these visits so long that they sometimes stayed for years.
She often wondered, however, who might be living in the castle on the heights across the valley. She could just see the outlines of the walls and towers on clear days from the balcony outside her bedroom window.
“Father,” she said one day, “could we not ride over to that castle some time? I’m forever dreaming stories about those who live within it.”
A heavy cloud settled over her father’s countenance.
“Never let me hear you make mention of it again, my daughter!” he thundered.
And of course she said no more, but she spoke about it to one of her aunts that evening.
“Dear aunt, why was my father vexed when I mentioned that castle this morning?” she asked, pointing out of her window.
“Hush, my child,” replied her aunt. “There is a feud between the two families.”
“A feud?” questioned the maiden. “A feud? Why, we do not even know them! How can there be a feud?”
“It dates back to the time of our great-great-grandfathers,” her aunt told her, “and no loyal member of this family would ever have anything to do with a member of that family. Never mention the matter again!” Then suddenly changing the subject, “Did you finish your embroidery stint for to-day? How far have you worked? Let me see.”
The maiden blushed, arose, and brought a large sheet of unfinished tapestry to her aunt, which she unfolded before her.
