hastily prepared for his journey, and when he was on the point of setting out, and, according to custom, took leave of his wife, she inquired carefully about his designs, pressed him, contrary to her usual habit, to tell her against whom he was marching; and, when he kindly reproved her unusual curiosity, she covered her face and wept bitterly. This touched the knight to the heart, though he would not show it, but set off and hastened to the place of action, attacked his adversary, slew him after a spirited contest, and returned home triumphantly. His affectionate wife received him with open arms, conversed with him cheerfully, and left nothing untried to sound him, with smooth words and womanly arts, as to what adventure he had undertaken; but he carefully locked up his heart, fastened all its approaches with the bars of insensibility, and revealed nothing to her; nay, much more, he jested at her curiosity, and said laughingly, “Oh! mother Eve, thy daughters are not yet degenerate; curiosity and inquisitiveness are still woman’s heritage to this day; any one of these would have desired to pluck from the forbidden tree, or to lift up the lid of the prohibited dish, and would thereby have let out the little mouse that lay therein.”—“Pardon me, beloved husband,” answered the prudent lady, “men have also received their appointed share of mother Eve’s heritage; the only difference is, that a worthy woman dares keep no secret from her husband. I lay a wager that, if my heart could conceal anything from you, you would not sleep nor rest till I had disclosed to you my secret.”—“And I,” answered he, “give you my word that your secret would not concern me at all: I allow you to make the trial.”
This was the point to which the lady Matilda wanted to bring her husband. “Well,” said she, “my dear lord, it is permitted me to choose one of the sponsors who shall stand godmother to my child. Now, I have a friend in my mind unknown to you, and my request is that you never press me to tell you who she is, how she comes, nor where she dwells. When you have promised me this on your knightly honour, and kept your promise, I shall have lost my wager, and will freely acknowledge that manly spirit triumphs over womanly weakness.” Wackerman unhesitatingly gave his wife this promise, and she rejoiced at the happy success of her stratagem. In a few days a little girl was born. Although the father would rather have embraced a son, he rode very cheerfully to his neighbours and friends, to invite them to the christening.
The company assembled on the appointed day; and, when the mother heard the noise of carriages, the neighing of horses, and the bustle in the courtyard, she called a trusty servant to her, and said, “Take this pebble, throw it silently behind thee, into the Nixa’s spring.” The servant did as the lady had enjoined, and, before he returned, an unknown lady entered the room
