In the morning the porter, at her behest, withdrew bolt, bar, and chain,
allowing exit into the fresh, cool air, and skirting the Castle, she
arrived at a broad terrace which fronted it. A fleecy mist extending
from shore to shore concealed the waters of the Rhine, and partially
obliterated the little village of Caub at the foot of the hill. Where
she stood the air was crystal clear, and she seemed to be looking out on
a broad snow-field of purest white. Beyond Caub its surface was pierced
by the dozen sharp pinnacles of her future prison, looking like a bed of
spikes, upon which one might imagine a giant martyr impaled by the
verdict of a cruel Archbishop.
Gazing upon this nightmare Castle, whose tusks alone were revealed, the
girl formulated the resolution but faintly suggested the night before.
On her release should ensue an abandonment of the world, and the
adoption of a nun's veil in the convent opposite Drachenfels, an island
exchanged for an island; turmoil for peace.
At breakfast she met again the jovial Count Palatine, and her more sober
guardian, who both complimented her on the results of her beauty rest,
the one with great gallantry, the other with more reserve, as befitted a
Churchman.
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