" Christina's
entreaty obtained permission to enter the little building, but she
had knelt there only a few moments before her father came to hurry
her away, and her supplications that he would some day take her to
mass there were whistled down the wind; and indeed the hermit was a
layman, and the church was only served on great festivals by a monk
from the convent of St. Ruprecht, on the distant side of the
mountain, which was further supposed to be in the Schlangenwald
interest. Her best chance lay in infusing the desire into
Ermentrude, who by watching her prayers and asking a few questions
had begun to acquire a few clearer ideas. And what Ermentrude wished
had always hitherto been acquiesced in by the two lords.
The elder baron came little into Christina's way. He meant to be
kind to her, but she was dreadfully afraid of him, and, when he came
to visit his daughter, shrank out of his notice as much as possible,
shuddering most of all at his attempts at civilities. His son she
viewed as one of the thickwitted giants meant to be food for the
heroism of good knights of romance.
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