"You will obey?" asked the Archbishop.
"I will obey, my Lord."
He flashed from its scabbard, into the rays of the setting sun, the
sword he had made, and elevating the hilt to his forehead, saluted the
Archbishop.
"I shall see you at Ehrenfels, my Lord."
"Ah, do not go thus. Come to the Castle for an hour's rest at least."
The young man whirled his sword around, and caught it by the blade,
touching the hilt with his lips as if it were a cross.
"I thank God," said he, "that I can willingly keep my oath."
Then, looking at the girl--"For the Empress, and not for the Empire!" he
cried.
The sword seemed to drop into the scabbard of its own accord, as Roland
set spurs to his steed and away.
XVIII
THE SWORD MAKER AT BAY
The heir-presumptive to the throne reached Frankfort very quietly in the
Archbishop's barge, and was landed after nightfall at the water-steps of
the Imperial Palace. The funeral of the Emperor took place almost as if
it were a private ceremonial. Grave trouble had been anticipated, and
the route of the procession for the short distance between Palace and
Cathedral was thickly lined on either side by the troops of the three
Archbishops.
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