strings upon the path of pride; her (as yet unprejudiced) heart was open to every impression. She expected a prince, or at least a count, would pay homage to her attractions; and all less nobly born Paladins, who courted her, she received with cold disdain. But, before an admirer of sufficient rank made his appearance, a circumstance happened which occasioned that all the princes and counts of the Roman empire of Germany would have come too late to woo for the young lady’s heart.
During the movements of the thirty years war, the army of the brave Wallenstein took up its winter quarters in the Voigtland, and squire Sigmund received many uninvited guests, who did more mischief in the castle than did formerly the ghostly night-walkers. Although they had a lesser claim to the ownership, they were not to be driven away by exorcisms. The lords of the manor were compelled to put on a good face to a bad case; and as the commanding officers maintained good discipline, they treated them splendidly, in order to keep them good temper. Banquets and balls followed in rapid succession. At the first presided the lady, at the second the daughter of the house. This noble exercise of hospitality made the rude warriors quite supple:
