"What did you there?" I asked, seeing his willingness to be questioned.
"I stood there--I--I--" He paused, laughed, and stammered on. "I looked at the castle and at the moat, like a silly fool, and--and--"
"Castleman's house?" I suggested, helping him out.
"Y-e-s," he answered hesitatingly, "I could not help seeing it. It is close by the bridge--not twenty paces distant."
"Did you see any one else--except the house?" I asked.
"No," he returned promptly. "I did not want to see any one else. If I had I should have entered the house."
"Why, then, did you go to the bridge?" I queried.
"I cannot answer that question even to myself," he replied. "I--I--there is a constant hungering for her, Karl, that I cannot overcome; it seems as if I am compelled to go to the bridge, though I know I should not. It is very foolish in me, I am sure, but--"
"I heartily agree with you," I answered. "It is not only foolish, it is rash; and it may bring you great trouble."
I did not deem it necessary to tell him that he was following in the footsteps of his race. I left him to suppose that he was the only fool of the sort that had ever lived. The thought would abate his vanity.