“The Knight, having descended a staircase, opened a secret door, which
the Baron had believed was known only to himself, and, proceeding
through several narrow and winding passages, came, at length, to a
small gate, that opened beyond the walls of the castle. Meanwhile, the
Baron followed in silence and amazement, on perceiving that these
secret passages were so well known to a stranger, and felt inclined to
return from an adventure that appeared to partake of treachery, as well
as danger. Then, considering that he was armed, and observing the
courteous and noble air of his conductor, his courage returned, he
blushed, that it had failed him for a moment, and he resolved to trace
the mystery to its source. “He now found himself on the heathy platform, before the great gates of
his castle, where, on looking up, he perceived lights glimmering in the
different casements of the guests, who were retiring to sleep; and,
while he shivered in the blast, and looked on the dark and desolate
scene around him, he thought of the comforts of his warm chamber,
rendered cheerful by the blaze of wood, and felt, for a moment, the
full contrast of his present situation.”

[Here Ludovico paused a moment, and, looking at his own fire, gave it a
brightening stir.] “The wind was strong, and the Baron watched his lamp with anxiety,
expecting every moment to see it extinguished; but, though the flame
wavered, it did not expire, and he still followed the stranger, who
often sighed as he went, but did not speak. “When they reached the borders of the forest, the Knight turned, and
raised his head, as if he meant to address the Baron, but then, closing
his lips in silence, he walked on. “As they entered beneath the dark and spreading boughs, the Baron,
affected by the solemnity of the scene, hesitated whether to proceed,
and demanded how much further they were to go. The Knight replied only
by a gesture, and the Baron, with hesitating steps and a suspicious
eye, followed through an obscure and intricate path, till, having
proceeded a considerable way, he again demanded whither they were
going, and refused to proceed unless he was informed. “As he said this, he looked at his own sword, and at the Knight
alternately, who shook his head, and whose dejected countenance
disarmed the Baron, for a moment, of suspicion. “‘A little further is the place, whither I would lead you,’ said the
stranger; ‘no evil shall befall you—I have sworn it on the honour of a
knight.’

“The Baron, reassured, again followed in silence, and they soon arrived
at a deep recess of the forest, where the dark and lofty chesnuts
entirely excluded the sky, and which was so overgrown with underwood,
that they proceeded with difficulty. The Knight sighed deeply as he
passed, and sometimes paused; and having, at length, reached a spot,
where the trees crowded into a knot, he turned, and, with a terrific
look, pointing to the ground, the Baron saw there the body of a man,
stretched at its length, and weltering in blood; a ghastly wound was on
the forehead, and death appeared already to have contracted the
features. “The Baron, on perceiving the spectacle, started in horror, looked at
the Knight for explanation, and was then going to raise the body and
examine if there were yet any remains of life; but the stranger, waving
his hand, fixed upon him a look so earnest and mournful, as not only
much surprised him, but made him desist. “But, what were the Baron’s emotions, when, on holding the lamp near
the features of the corpse, he discovered the exact resemblance of the
stranger his conductor, to whom he now looked up in astonishment and
enquiry? As he gazed, he perceived the countenance of the Knight
change, and begin to fade, till his whole form gradually vanished from
his astonished sense! While the Baron stood, fixed to the spot, a voice
was heard to utter these words:—”

[Ludovico started, and laid down the book, for he thought he heard a
voice in the chamber, and he looked toward the bed, where, however, he
saw only the dark curtains and the pall. He listened, scarcely daring
to draw his breath, but heard only the distant roaring of the sea in
the storm, and the blast, that rushed by the casements; when,
concluding, that he had been deceived by its sighings, he took up his
book to finish the story.] “While the Baron stood, fixed to the spot, a voice was heard to utter
these words:—*

(*Note: This repetition seems to be intentional. Ludovico is picking up
the thread.) “The body of Sir Bevys of Lancaster, a noble knight of England, lies
before you. He was, this night, waylaid and murdered, as he journeyed
from the Holy City towards his native land. Respect the honour of
knighthood and the law of humanity; inter the body in christian ground,
and cause his murderers to be punished. As ye observe, or neglect this,
shall peace and happiness, or war and misery, light upon you and your
house for ever!”

“The Baron, when he recovered from the awe and astonishment, into which
this adventure had thrown him, returned to his castle, whither he
caused the body of Sir Bevys to be removed; and, on the following day,
it was interred, with the honours of knighthood, in the chapel of the
castle, attended by all the noble knights and ladies, who graced the
court of Baron de Brunne.”



Ludovico, having finished this story, laid aside the book, for he felt
drowsy, and, after putting more wood on the fire and taking another
glass of wine, he reposed himself in the arm-chair on the hearth. In
his dream he still beheld the chamber where he really was, and, once or
twice, started from imperfect slumbers, imagining he saw a man’s face,
looking over the high back of his arm-chair. This idea had so strongly
impressed him, that, when he raised his eyes, he almost expected to
meet other eyes, fixed upon his own, and he quitted his seat and looked
behind the chair, before he felt perfectly convinced, that no person
was there. Thus closed the hour. CHAPTER VII

Enjoy the honey-heavy dew of slumber;
Thou hast no figures, nor no fantasies,
Which busy care draws in the brains of men;
Therefore thou sleep’st so sound. SHAKESPEARE


The Count, who had slept little during the night, rose early, and,
anxious to speak with Ludovico, went to the north apartment; but, the
outer door having been fastened, on the preceding night, he was obliged
to knock loudly for admittance. Neither the knocking, nor his voice was
heard; but, considering the distance of this door from the bedroom, and
that Ludovico, wearied with watching, had probably fallen into a deep
sleep, the Count was not surprised on receiving no answer, and, leaving
the door, he went down to walk in his grounds. It was a grey autumnal morning. The sun, rising over Provence, gave
only a feeble light, as his rays struggled through the vapours that
ascended from the sea, and floated heavily over the wood-tops, which
were now varied with many a mellow tint of autumn.