The mixture of history, fiction,
and superstition which he found in these vellum pages, so daintily
limned, and so artistically embellished with initial letters in gold and
crimson and blue, fascinated him, and filled him with that desire to see
those grim strongholds on the mountain-sides by the river, which later
on resulted in his journey from Ehrenfels to Bonn, when his ingenuity,
and the cupidity of his custodian, freed him from the very slight
thraldom in which he was held by the Archbishop of Mayence.
If his attention had been entirely absorbed by the reading of these
tomes, he might have become a mere dreamy bookworm, his intellect
saturated with the sentimental and romantic mysticism permeating Germany
even unto this day, and, as he cared nothing for the sports of boyhood,
body might have suffered as brain developed.
But, luckily, he had been placed under the instruction of Rinaldo, the
greatest master of the sword that the world had up to that period
produced. Rinaldo was an Italian from Milan, whom gold tempted across
the Alps for the purpose of instructing the Emperor's son in Frankfort.
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