"
The pilgrim made an obeisance, but, instead of answering, demanded
hastily, "See I yonder the bearing of Schlangenwald?"
"Even so. Schloss Schlangenwald is about a league further on, and
thou wilt find a kind reception there, if thither thou art bent."
"Is that Graff Wolfgang's tomb?" still eagerly pursued the pilgrim;
and receiving a sign in the affirmative, "What was his end?"
"He fell in a skirmish."
"By whose hand?"
"By mine."
"Ha!" and the pilgrim surveyed him with undisguised astonishment;
then, without another word, took up his staff and limped out of the
building, but not on the road to Schlangenwald. It was nearly a
quarter of an hour afterwards that he was overtaken by the young
knight and the little lady on their horses, just where the new road
to the castle parted from the old way by the Eagle's Ladder. The
knight reined up as he saw the poor man's slow, painful steps, and
said, "So thou art not bound for Schlangenwald?"
"I would to the village, so please you--to the shrine of the Blessed
Friedmund.
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