_"Mea culpa,_ as you said just now. Father Ambrose, I ask your pardon. I
made an unfair use of your mistake to coerce you. You were quite right
in relating what your own eyes saw here in Frankfort, and although the
inference drawn was wrong, you were not to blame for that. I recognize
your scruples, but nevertheless protest that already I possess the
sanction of the Archbishop, which has never been withdrawn."
"Prince Roland, if you bring hither the Countess von Sayn to-morrow
afternoon, when the bells strike three, I will marry you, and gladly
accept whatever penances ensue. I fear the monk's robe has not crushed
out all the impulses of the Sayn blood. In my case, perhaps, it has only
covered them. And now, good-night, and God's blessing fall upon you and
her you are to marry."
Roland went directly from the chapel to his own room, where he slept the
sleep of one who has made up his mind. Nevertheless, it was not a
dreamless sleep, for throughout the night he seemed to hear the tramp of
armed men marching upon unconscious Frankfort, and this sound was so
persistent, that at last he woke, yet still it continued.
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