"
"I love my mother! I love Friedel! They would have withheld me.
Go, go; I hate you!"
"Peace, peace, Ebbo," exclaimed his mother; "you know not what you
say. Ask your grandmother's pardon."
"Peace, thou fool!" screamed the old lady. "The Baron speaks as he
will in his own castle. He is not to be checked here, and thwarted
there, and taught to mince his words like a cap-in-hand pedlar.
Pardon! When did an Adlerstein seek pardon? Come with me, my Baron;
I have still some honey-cakes."
"Not I," replied Ebbo; "honey-cakes will not cure the wolf whelp.
Go: I want my mother and Friedel."
Alone with them his pride and passion were gone; but alas! what
augury for the future of her boys was left with the mother!
CHAPTER X: THE EAGLE'S PREY
"It fell about the Lammas tide,
When moor men win their hay,"
that all the serfs of Adlerstein were collected to collect their
lady's hay to be stored for the winter's fodder of the goats, and of
poor Sir Eberhard's old white mare, the only steed as yet ridden by
the young Barons.
Pages:
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212
213
214
215
216
217
218
219
220