"Tell me, Gilbert de Hers," she said, "do you truly desire peace between us?"

"As I live," replied Gilbert, "yes!"

"Do you desire it for the love of G.o.d, and because our enmity displeases Him?"

"Yes."

"Then consecrate yourself to the attainment of that peace! Let no selfish motive spur you on! Look to heaven for your recompense, not to me I Aspire to eternal favor, not to mortal love! As for me--my days are numbered here!--but what remains of life, I devote to the same holy end.

We will labor together, though apart, in a n.o.ble cause--our prayers shall be the same--our hopes the same--our actions guided by the same resolves! If I should die before our task is done--if my death fail to soften my father's heart--falter not in your enterprise! With the grace of G.o.d, I shall be with you still! Fix your heart _there!_"

Her trembling finger was raised to heaven as she spoke, and in the splendor of her pious enthusiasm, she seemed rather the guardian Angel of the youth than a daughter of earth.

Gilbert remained as one entranced--he did not even hear the sharp scream that burst from Linda, as Bertha, with her hair streaming wildly over her face and neck, darted toward them through the corridor, followed by a dozen men-at-arms.

"Fly! fly! my lady!" cried the terrified neif, setting the example.

But Margaret remained firm.

"Rise!" she said to Gilbert, who still knelt as if turned to stone.

Alive to her voice, he sprang to his feet.

"Back!" cried the Lady Margaret to the leader of the party, who was now within a few feet of her.

"Pardon me, my lady," said the man, bowing deeply; "your sire has commanded us to arrest the harp-bearer."

The maiden reflected an instant, and then said: "Offer him no violence--take him before my father--I will accompany you."

Gilbert had drawn his sword, but at a sign from the Lady Margaret, replaced it in his belt, and suffered himself to be seized by two of the men of Stramen. Margaret led the way along the corridor, followed by Bertha, whose voice could be heard at times mingling with the clang of the heavy feet that waked a hundred echoes along the vaulted pa.s.sage.

Had Gilbert looked behind him as he left the ravine, he would have seen a female figure there--that figure had dogged him ever since. Bertha was again his evil spirit: with a peculiar cunning, she had followed him un.o.bserved to the interview with the Lady Margaret, and then communicated her suspicions by gestures and broken sentences to the baron. Scarce knowing whether to credit the confused story of the unfortunate woman, Sir Sandrit had ordered Gilbert's arrest, rather to get rid of Bertha's importunity than as a prudent or necessary measure.

When the youth entered the room with Margaret, Bertha, and his armed escort, the baron said, without any irritation:

"Is this a Bohemian, my daughter? Has he been telling your fortune?"

But the Lady Margaret was silent.

"Unm.u.f.fle that churl," pursued the knight, manifesting some impatience; "let us see what lurks beneath that sordid cowl."

"Hold!" cried the youth, arresting the lifted arm of his guard and uncovering his head with his own hand. "There is no motive for concealment now, sir," he continued, meeting without flinching the kindling eye of the baron. "I am Gilbert de Hers!"

At this bold declaration, Sir Sandrit started up, almost livid with anger, while the corded veins swelled in his menacing brow; Father Omehr clasped his hands, despondingly at first, and then, raising them as if in prayer, kept his eye fixed on the baron; the Lady Margaret bent her head in deep affliction, and Humbert involuntarily struck his harp. The single note sounded like a knell: a death-like silence ensued. Already four stalwart soldiers had secured Gilbert's arms, and with determined looks they waited but a signal from their chief: still the infuriated knight scowled at Gilbert, and still the latter firmly bore the storm.

"To prison with him!" at length exclaimed the baron. "Instant death were too good for the designing villain who has stolen like a snake into our midst. Away with the deceiver, who would stoop, to seek by a most unmanly stratagem the revenge he dared not openly attempt."

"The bravest of your name," retorted Gilbert, "has not yet dared to set foot within my father's halls."

"Because we murder not by stealth!" shouted Sir Sandrit, stung by the sarcasm.

"I meant no murder in coming here!"

"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.