But your mother must cut off that long hair of yours; I will keep it, my child, and will stroke it often and often in my prison as I have done when it has been on your head; your hair may be long again before I next see you." His eyes filled with tears as he spoke, and Thekla and the countess both broke into a fit of crying.

Leaving them by themselves, Malcolm returned to his work, and in half an hour had replaced the machinery of the clock and had set it in motion, while a tender conversation went on between the count and countess and their daughter.

By this time the sun had set, and the attendant entered and lighted the candles in the apartment, saying, as she placed one on the table by Malcolm, "You must need a light for your work." No sooner had she left the room than Malcolm said: "I would not hurry your parting, countess, but the sooner we are off now the better." Without a word the countess rose, and, taking the clothes which Malcolm produced from his doublet, retired to her chamber, followed by Thekla.
"Malcolm Graheme," the count said, "it may be that we shall not meet again.

The emperor is not tender with obstinate prisoners, and I have no strength to support long hardships.

Should aught happen to me I beseech you to watch over the happiness of my child.