Part 10 (2/2)

”Aha! you find it easy to disguise your designs as well as your person!”

”I came to renounce the foe at your daughter's feet, and tell her that I loved her. I have done so--do your worst!”

While the youth was speaking, the maddened baron s.n.a.t.c.hed a heavy mace from a man who stood by. Already the ponderous ma.s.s quivered in his powerful grasp, when his daughter, with a piercing shriek, threw herself upon his arm. After a vain effort to free himself, the ready knight seized the weapon with his left hand, and with wonderful adroitness and strength prepared for the blow. But the baron's arm was again arrested.

Between the chieftain and the motionless object of his wrath stood Father Omehr. The mace must crush that majestic forehead, that benevolent eye, must steep those venerable hairs in blood, before it can reach the unfortunate Gilbert. Calm, but stern, the missionary, stood, superior to the frenzy of the n.o.ble.

”Forbear! In the name of G.o.d I command you--forbear!” Such was his exclamation, as, with one arm outstretched, he opposed his hand to the mace.

”Tempt me not!” cried the baron, growing pale, and stamping in his rage.

”Tempt not your G.o.d!” returned the fearless priest.

”Stand aside! Beware! You shelter a miscreant!”

”Beware yourself of the fiend at your heart!” replied the old man, maintaining his perilous position.

”Think not to thwart me always,” resumed Sir Sandrit. ”I have too long permitted your interference. Again and again have you thrust yourself between me and the objects of my wrath! You have ever sided with my inferiors--protected my serfs, and insulted their master.”

”I have sided with mercy and with your better nature. You are a demon now--and seek what, if obtained, would make you even loathe yourself, and would, in the pure eye of G.o.d--”

A shrill blast of a bugle sounded at the castle gate.

”The duke! the duke!” exclaimed the Lady Margaret, throwing her arms around her father's neck.

The mace was still uplifted, the priest was still before it, Gilbert was still pinioned by the men of Stramen, and all was silent as the tomb, when Rodolph and Henry entered the room.

”Did you listen to that minion, Margaret?” said the baron to his daughter, without seeming to notice the presence of the duke.

”It is because she gave me no hope,” interposed Gilbert, ”that I am indifferent to your anger.”

Rodolph, perceiving the difficulty at a glance, put his arm in his angry baron's and led him aside, while Henry advanced to his sister. After a long and vehement discussion, the King of Arles left the knight standing with his arms folded on his breast and his back to the group, and released Gilbert from the close grasp of his captors.

”Come with me,” he said, in a whisper.

”Where?” inquired Gilbert.

”To the other side of the drawbridge?”

”But--I cannot leave Humbert,” said the youth, pointing to the frightened minnesinger.

”He shall go with you--they care not for him.”

At a beck from the duke, Humbert was at his side. ”Follow me,” said Rodolph.

But Gilbert lingered a moment to press Father Omehr's hand to his lips, and then the three pa.s.sed silently, out of the apartment. They soon gained the terrace, where, to his surprise, Gilbert found his own horses that had been tied in the ravine. Bertha had brought them there.

The two adventurers were conducted by the duke beyond the castle bounds.

The clouds had pa.s.sed away, and the moon and stars shone brightly.

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