The dawn was only just beginning to glow when Erna awakened next morning; but Albrecht had already arisen, and was standing, fully dressed, by the bedside. She started up from her pillow and regarded him with surprise.

"Where art thou going?" she asked. "Surely thou wert not trying to steal away without my knowing?"

Albrecht bent over and kissed her fondly.

"I am going," he answered, in a tone of strange tenderness and solemnity, "to the chamber of Father Christopher. I was interrupted yesterday when I should have made confession."

"Come again quickly!" Erna cried, putting up her white arms to clasp them about her husband's neck.

He returned the embrace with passionate eagerness.

"How can I ever repay thee," he murmured, "for what thou givest me! But at least, sweetheart," he added, as he freed himself from her clinging arms, "I have at last learned what thou didst mean when thou didst reprove me for kissing the damsel in the hall; and henceforth I cannot care for the kisses of any save of thee only."

There was in Albrecht's mien something which was new to Erna, and which affected her profoundly. After he was gone she lay thinking of the grave, half-wondering expression of his handsome face. She felt some subtile change in him so strongly that it seemed as if the real alteration must be in herself. The jocund, sportive air with which he had always treated her, even since their betrothal, seemed to have given place to a tender and almost adoring manner which touched her deeply while it made her flush with pleasure.

Father Christopher was at his orisons when Albrecht presented himself at the door of his little chamber, high up in the western tower, from whose narrow windows the kindly and pious old man could see the first gleams of the morning sun, and the last fading glimmer of the dying day, and from which he could look far over the wild and haunted forest which stretched like a sea about the hill on which the castle stood. The priest rose from his knees and opened the door, the surprise he felt at the sight of the baron appearing undisguisedly in his face.

"Good morrow, Father," the knight said, advancing somewhat hesitatingly into the chamber.

"Good morrow, my son," the priest responded, regarding his visitor curiously. "Is it well with the countess?"

"All is well with her," answered Albrecht, gravely, and with something not unlike timidity appearing in his manner; "unless," he added with sudden vehemence, "it be not well that she hath wed with me."

The face of Father Christopher became instantly grave.

"Why dost thou say that?" he demanded almost fiercely, coming closer to the knight.

"Nay, Father," Albrecht said, meeting the eyes of the other with a deep and grave regard that did not falter, "I know not that it be not well, and I have not knowingly done her harm. Only," he continued, his tone changing suddenly into one of entreaty and profound emotion, "I cannot tell what I may have done. Bless me, Father, and I will tell thee all. I have sore need of thy guidance."

He fell on his knees as he spoke, and half mechanically the bewildered priest extended his hands in benediction. The baron remained kneeling for a moment in the attitude of prayer, though his lips did not move. Then he rose, and began to pace up and down the little chamber with long strides.

"Father," he said, "it is an awful thing to possess a soul. Had I known—"

The priest seated himself and watched his visitor with concern and curiosity. As Albrecht broke off and walked with eyes fixed upon the floor and brows knit, Father Christopher said aloud, although he was really speaking only to himself:

"How ill was it that that madman broke in upon us yesterday! I should not be in this painful uncertainty but for that unhappy chance which prevented thy confession."

"Father," the other replied, turning toward him, "it was not a chance. The man did but act a part that Herr von Zimmern taught him. It was done that I need not confess."

"What!" exclaimed the priest, springing to his feet. "Thou hast mocked at the holy sacrament! Thou wentest to the altar with a lie on thy lips; thou—"

"Wait!" Albrecht interrupted, with an air of noble authority which arrested his companion's words and even somewhat reassured him. "I have come to tell thee everything, and thou wilt see that I was innocent because I knew not what I did."

"How can that be?" Father Christopher responded. "Surely, that it is impiety to trifle with the sacraments is known to every man."

Albrecht paused in his agitated walk, and for a moment stood regarding the priest with a strange look.

"To every man, yes," at length he responded, "but not to me. I am a kobold."

The priest sprang to his feet with a cry of astonishment and horror. Like a flash came the remembrance of all the strange circumstances which attended the coming of the baron and his stay at Rittenberg. He grew pale with anger and dread.

"A kobold!" he cried. "One of the accursed, soulless race!"

"Soulless no longer," Albrecht murmured, bending his head as if against a storm.

"What hast thou done!" the priest continued. "How hast thou dared to wed the countess with such a secret between you?"

"Father," the baron returned, laying his hand upon the other's arm, and speaking with more coolness than could have been expected, "it is only to-day when I awake with a soul, that I realize what I have done. How could I know before? I was like the beasts in the forest, and I have understood good and evil only as they. Now that the higher light has burst upon me, it dazzles and blinds me. I see only that I have wronged her whom now I would give my life to save from harm. She has given me a soul, and by it I realize how unfit I am to be her mate. Help me, Father, for with all the strength of my new soul I love her, love her, love her!"

The most profound feeling thrilled in Albrecht's voice as he pronounced these words. He sank down at the feet of his companion, and on his knees he clasped the other's hand.

"I am confused, blinded," he went on. "The prospect that opens before me is so vast that it overwhelms me. I have never feared anything in my life, Father; but of this thing which thou callest a soul that has come to me I am afraid, I am afraid, Father Christopher."

The priest was not unnaturally overcome by a situation so far aside from any previous experience of his life. His first thought was that he had to deal with a madman, but there was in the tones and manner of the baron that which compelled his belief. He could not understand, but he was too kindly not to be deeply moved by the emotion of his companion, and he wisely determined to learn as quickly and as clearly as possible the real facts of the strange situation, in order that he might determine what was his own duty in the case. He raised Albrecht from the floor, and motioned him to a seat.

"My son," he said gravely but not unkindly, "thou must be calm, and thou must tell me everything, that I may know how to advise thee and how to act myself. Relate all, from the very beginning."

Albrecht sank into the chair toward which the priest waved his hand, and for a moment he sat with his chin in his hand, his full chestnut beard pushed up so that it half covered his cheeks.

"I know not where to begin, Father," he said, "unless it be at my birth. My father was king of the kobolds in the Neiderwasser valley, and a brave and merry tribe they are. My mother died at my birth; and as this is a thing which seldom happens with our race, I was always looked upon as destined for some great or strange destiny. When I was four or five years old, my father caught Herr von Zimmern in the forest where he was hunting, and brought him home to the mountain caves where we dwelt, that he might teach me all knightly skill, for we kobolds are always jealous of the arts of knighthood."

"But did Herr von Zimmern desire to stay in such strange company?" asked Father Christopher, whose countenance expressed the greatest astonishment at this tale.

"He had no choice," rejoined Albrecht. "Once he tried to escape, and my father houghed him, that he should never again be able to travel through the forests fast enough to give trouble in bringing him back."

The priest shuddered, and the other for the first time in his life seemed to perceive the cruelty of this deed.

"My father," he said humbly, "had no soul."

Father Christopher's expression of horror changed to one of pity; and with a sigh Albrecht went on with his narrative.

"I was bred up at home," he said, "but now and then Herr von Zimmern has taken me to the cities, and to the fairs of the country, and now and then to a tourney that I might prove my knightly prowess. My father was killed in an avalanche some ten years since. He had offended the mountain sprites, and they lay in wait for him. I have lived with Herr von Zimmern since, and he has been my servant because I am ruler as my father was. It was he who told me of the delights of possessing a soul, and that a kobold might win one if a mortal maiden should love him with her whole heart and wed him. It was for this that he brought me to Rittenberg, and it was for this that I wooed its mistress."

There was a deep silence in the chamber as Albrecht ceased speaking. Strongly moved as he was by the confession, Father Christopher felt his heart so strongly yearn toward the baron, and so touched was he by the other's evident contrition, that he could not find it in his heart to speak the condemnation which the knight's course might merit. It was now too late, moreover, to prevent the mischief, and there seemed more wisdom in considering whether it were not possible to comply with Albrecht's agonized request, and to aid him to become worthy of his wife rather than to make any endeavor to separate them. If this might be done, it would be the saving of a soul; and however it had been come by, if Albrecht had indeed gained a spirit, it demanded the priest's best efforts to bring it to salvation.

"My son," the priest said after some moments' reflection, "what thou hast done would indeed be a grievous sin if thou hadst been a mortal, and I know not whether it is to be called a sin as it is or no. But now at least thou hast a soul, and it is mortal sin to live unbaptized."

"I was afraid," Albrecht said with simple candor and with an air of relief, "that thou wouldst command me to leave my wife; and that I could not do."

"No," the priest answered, "whom God through the Church hath joined are not lightly to be put asunder; but the rite of baptism is not to be neglected for a single hour."

"I know so little of these things," Albrecht murmured doubtfully.

"The priests of the Great Emperor," answered the old man, "administer baptism to the barbarians in token that they desire Christian light, and I can do no less for thee, who art in a devout mind."

Albrecht leaned forward in his chair and put out his hand half timidly to touch that of the other.

"I feel that I am ignorant of everything," he said. "Father, it is like suddenly coming into a strange land where I know not even the tongue that I should speak. I am afraid to go forward, lest I stumble into pitfalls I do not see."

Father Christopher laid his wrinkled hand kindly upon that of his penitent.

"But the way will become clear," he said, smiling. "Only follow the light that is given thee, and pray to God and his saints."

"But I know not how to pray."

"My son," the priest responded with a smile which comforted Albrecht more than words could have done, "our Great Emperor has said in his Capitularies: 'Let none suppose that prayer cannot be made to God save in three tongues, for God is adored in all tongues, and man is heard if he do but ask for the things that be right.' Be of good cheer, my son; God would not give a soul and not add enough knowledge for its salvation."

There was in the mien of Albrecht, as he knelt to receive the rite of baptism, the showing forth of great feeling. He had the air of one who comes into the fruit of a quest with joy, yet who regards that which he has won with something of doubt and secret awe; while withal it was evident that to his mind did this christening seem a thing which should serve in a sort as a talisman to defend him from this strange and awful guest that had come to dwell within him, but which even yet scarce seemed a part of himself. He was as one who knew not himself, but who was rather confused than enlightened by the new vision which had been imparted by the miracle that had been wrought.

"Father," he asked hesitatingly, "my wife, must I tell her?"

The priest considered a moment.

"Dost thou wish to tell her?" he inquired.

"Would to God that she had known!" was Albrecht's answer, "but how can I tell her now? What if she should turn against me?"

The strength of his newly found soul seemed to go out in his love for Erna, and he was white and trembling at the thought of losing her affection. Father Christopher regarded him keenly, with sympathy and complexity struggling in his mind.

"Now thou needst not tell her," he said. "The time may come; but now strive to become worthy of her whiteness, her innocence, her piety. If thou wouldst be sure of her love, my son, look upon this as a respite that thou mayest be one soul with hers when the day comes that she must be told. And of this be sure," the priest continued, his eye kindling as if some higher power were speaking through him, "since thou hast won thy soul through her, it is with hers that thine must stand or fall. If thou shalt drag hers down, there can be no salvation for thine."