Maria was kneeling weeping near her brother; she had seized his hand, and was bedewing it with her tears, while Adolf bent on her an unsteady and almost vacant look. As Robert and his daughter entered the refectory, the knights were all struck with wonder and emotion. He who had come in their hour of need, their mysterious deliverer, was the Lion of Flanders, their Count! They all bowed before him with profound reverence, and said:
''Honor to the Lion, our Lord!"
Robert left his daughter's hand, raised Messires John Borluut and Van Renesse from the ground, and kissed both of them on the cheek; he then beckoned to the other knights to rise, and addressed them thus:
"My true and loyal vassals, my friends, you have shown me to-day how mighty is a nation of heroes! I wear my coronet now with a loftier pride than that with which Philip the Fair wears the crown of France; for of you I may well boast and glory."
He then approached Adolf, took his hand, and looked at him for some time in silence; a tear glistened awhile beneath each eyelid of the Lion, and at length dropped—a pearl of price—upon the ground. Matilda was kneeling at the head of Adolf's couch; she had taken her green veil from his hand; and her tears fell hot and fast upon this token of her affection, and of his self-sacrifice and devotedness. She spoke not a word; she did not even steal a look at Adolf; but covered her face with her hands, and wept bitterly.
The priest, too, stood motionless, his eyes steadily fastened on the wounded knight. He marked some wonderful change passing over his features; something which, increasing every moment, spoke of returning life and vigor. And in truth his eyes had lost their fixed and glassy expression, and his countenance no longer bore the signs of approaching death. Soon he raised his eyes to Robert, with a look of intense love and devotion; and said slowly, and with a voice broken by suffering and weakness:
"Oh, my lord and Count! your presence is to me a sweet consolation. Now I can die in peace— Our fatherland is free! You will occupy the Lion's throne in peaceful and happy days— Gladly do I now quit this earth, now that the future promises so much happiness to you and to your noble daughter. Oh, believe me, in this my hour of death, your mischances were more grievous to me, your unworthy servant, than to yourself. Often have I, in the still night, moistened my bed with my tears, as I thought of the mournful lot of the noble Matilda, and of your captivity—" Then turning his head slightly toward Matilda, he made her tears flow vet more abundantly, as he said:
"Weep not, noble maiden; I merit not this tender compassion. There is another life than thisl There it is my hope and trust I shall see my good sister again. Remain on earth, the stay and solace of your father's old age; and sometimes in your prayers think of your brother, who must quit you—"
Suddenly he stopped, and looked around him in astonishment.
"Merciful God!" cried he, turning an inquiring look on the priest, "what means this? I feel a renewed vigor; my blood flows more freely in my veins!"
Matilda arose at these words, and gazed at him in painful expectation. All looked anxiously and inquiringly at the priest, who had been attentively watching Adolf during this scene, and noting his most fleeting expression and emotion. He took Adolf's hand and felt his pulse, while all the bystanders followed his every movement with eager curiosity; and at length they read in the good priest's countenance that he had not abandoned all hope of restoring the wounded knight. The skilful leech opened the eyelids of his patient in silence, and attentively examined his eyes; he opened his mouth, and passed his hand over his uncovered breast; and then turning to the knights around the couch, he said, in a tone of decided conviction:
"I can now assure you, Messires, that the fever which threatened the life of tlie youthful knight has subsided: he will not die."
A sensible tremor passed over all present, and one might have thought the priest had uttered a doom of death; but soon this convulsive thrill was succeeded by a bounding joy, which broke forth in words and gestures.
Maria had answered the assurance of the priest with a piercing cry, and clasped her brother to her breast; while Matilda fell on her knees, raised her hands toward Heaven, and cried with a loud voice:
"I thank Thee, O God all-merciful, full of compassion, that Thou hast heard the prayers of Thine unworthy handmaiden!"
And after this brief thanksgiving she sprang up, and threw herself, tremulous with joy, into her father's arms.
"He will live! he will not die!" she exclaimed, in a transport of gladness. "Oh, now I am happy!" and she rested a moment exhausted on Robert's breast. But soon she turned again eagerly back to Adolf, and exchanged words of joy and gratitude with him.
What appeared a miracle to all present was but a natural result of Adolf's condition. He had received no open nor deep wound, but many bruises; the pain which these occasioned him had induced a violent fever, which threatened his life; but the presence of Matilda seemed to have brought the malady to a crisis, and, by imparting fresh energy to his soul, gave him strength to battle with it, and, as it were, to cast it off; and thus did she appear as an angel of life to rescue him from the grave, which already yawned to receive him.
Robert de Bethune allowed his daughter, who was beside herself with joy, to remain kneeling
