"And so also do you, my girl. What is your name and who are you?"

"I am called Beatrix, my Lord, a serving-maid of this castle, the
daughter of the woodman Wilhelm, and, alas! that it should be so, for
the present your jailer."

"If I quarrelled as little with my detention, as I see I am like to do
with my keeper, I fear captivity would hold me long in thrall. Are the
men in the castle such cravens then that they bestow so unwelcome a
task upon a woman?"

"The men are no cravens, my Lord, but this castle is at war with yours,
and for each man there is a post. A woman would be less missed if so
brave a warrior as Count von Schonburg thought fit to war upon us."

"But a woman makes war upon me, Beatrix. What am I to do? Surrender
humbly?"

"Brave men have done so before now and will again, my Lord, where women
are concerned. At least," added Beatrix, blushing and casting down her
eyes, "I have been so informed."

"And small blame to them," cried the count, with enthusiasm. "I swear
to you, my girl, that if women warriors were like the woodman's
daughter, I would cast away all arms except these with which to enclasp
her."

And he stretched out his hands, taking a step nearer, while she shrank
in alarm from him.