"Come in and sit down. Whence did you come?"

"I am on my way to the castle, but night has overtaken me."

"You are very near it. If it were light, I could show you its towers. But what can a dove like you be seeking in that vulture's nest?"

"My dear uncle, the Dean of Strasburg, is a prisoner there."

"I saw him when he was dragged into the castle, and very distressed and woe-begone the good man looked."

"I am going there to pray for his release."

"Umph. At that castle they don't give something for nothing. What ransom can you offer?"

"Nothing. I hope by prayers and tears to move the count's heart."

"I am wiser than you in the world's ways,--let me advise you. Cry with those pretty eyes, plead with your sweet voice, but not to the old count."

"To whom?"

"To his son."

"Will he influence his father?"

"Girl, I have taken a liking to you. You have a kind heart; I can see your disposition; I have met but few like you in the world. I will tell you what I will do. I will give you one of my white hens."

"A _hen_?"

"Yes. Go with the hen to the castle and inquire for Bernard, the count's son. Tell him that at daybreak the Count of Eberstein has planned an attack on the castle, and that you have come to warn him.

Bid him fear nothing. Say that what he needs is a trench; and when he asks how one is to be made, tell him that you have brought him Scratch Gravel, the hen, who will immediately dig one for him."

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE OLD WOMAN'S DIRECTIONS.]

"How will that rescue my uncle?"

"You shall see."

The maiden took the white hen, and went out into the night. The old woman pointed out to her the way to the castle.

As she drew near the castle, she heard a great noise in the highway.

The count's son was returning late from the chase. As he drew near her on horseback, he accosted her politely and asked her errand.

The beautiful girl related the story the old woman had told her.

"I will take you to my father."

She related her story to the count, and showed him the white hen.

"Pooh! pooh!" said the count.

"I think her story is true," said the young man.

"Why?"

"I see truth written on her beautiful face."

"Is that so? I don't see it. Perhaps my eyes are not as good as they used to be. Well, well; let us see what the white hen will do."

They took the hen outside the castle, and put her down. Presently the gravel began to fly. It was like a storm. The air was filled with earth and stones, and the old count was filled with astonishment.

"The hen is bewitched," said the count.

"Did I not tell you that the girl is honest?"

"And handsome?"

"And handsome."

Before daybreak the white hen had dug a deep trench around the castle. The trench is shown to travellers to-day, a very remarkable proof of the truth of the story, with only one missing link in the chain of evidence.

The next morning the enemy appeared, but when he came to the trench he forbore to storm the castle.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE HEN AND THE TRENCH.]

The old count called the maiden into his presence.

"What reward do you ask for so great a service?"

"That you call the Dean of Strasburg to give thanks in the chapel."

The count called the bishop, and attended the service. When it was over, he did not remand the good man to his cell.

"I have one request to make of you," said Bernard to the maid, as they left the church.

"Name it."

"You promise to grant it?"

"Name it."

"That you make your home in the castle."

"On one condition."

"Name it."

"That the dean is released."

The young count went to his father.