He smiled; she laughed back again. He held out his arms,
and, though his hands were gauntleted, she let him lift her up, and
curiously smoothed and patted his cheek, as if he had been a strange
animal.
"You have no wings," she said. "Are you St. George, or St. Michael?"
"Neither the one nor the other, pretty one. Only your poor cousin
Friedel von Adlerstein, and here is Ebbo, my brother."
It was not in Ebbo's nature not to smile encouragement at the fair
little face, with its wistful look. He drew off his glove to caress
her silken hair, and for a few minutes she was played with by the two
brothers like a newly-invented toy, receiving their attentions with
pretty half-frightened graciousness, until Count Rudiger hastened in
to summon them, and Friedel placed her on his mother's knee, where
she speedily became perfectly happy, and at ease.
Her extreme delight, when towards evening the Junkern returned, was
flattering even to Ebbo; and, when it was time for her to be taken
home, she made strong resistance, clinging fast to Christina, with
screams and struggles.
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