"Oh, let me see the Schneiderlein," implored Christina, by this time
able to rise and cross the room to the large carved chair; and Ursel
immediately turned to her underling, saying, "Tell the Schneiderlein
that the gracious Lady Baroness desires his presence."
Else's wooden shoes clattered down stairs, but the next moment she
returned. "He cannot come; he is quite spent, and he will let no one
touch his arm till Ursel can come, not even to get off his doublet."
"I will go to him," said Christina, and, revived by the sense of
being wanted, she moved at once to the turret, where she kept some
rag and some ointment, which she had found needful in the latter
stages of Ermentrude's illness--indeed, household surgery was a part
of regular female education, and Christina had had plenty of practice
in helping her charitable aunt, so that the superiority of her skill
to that of Ursel had long been avowed in the castle. Ursel made no
objection further than to look for something that could be at once
converted into a widow's veil--being in the midst of her grief quite
alive to the need that no matronly badge should be omitted--but
nothing came to hand in time, and Christina was descending the
stairs, on her way to the kitchen, where she found the fugitive man-
at-arms seated on a rough settle, his head and wounded arm resting on
the table, while groans of pain, weariness, and impatience were
interspersed with imprecations on the stupid awkward girls who
surrounded him.
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