The minstrels took up their position on a platform near the wellhouse, and the gentlemen and ladies paired off in readiness for the dancing to begin. The music soon struck up, and away the couples went in the stately "Pas de Brabant."
Ralph was standing in a state of dreamy joy watching the graceful figures of the ladies, before whom each chevalier bent the knee as he revolved in the intricacies of the dance. He was thinking how lucky he was, and how kind and lovely Yolande looked as she danced with sweet grace in a set with the Captain of the Wight for her partner, and the Sire de la Roche Guemené, with a pretty girl dressed in exquisite taste, as their vis-à-vis.
As Ralph stood looking on, Newenhall came up to him.
"Lisle, there's a young damsel wishes to speak with thee. She's outside the main gate, and cannot come in. Jock Osborn's sergeant of the guard; he'll let thee out, an there's any hindrance."
Ralph's thoughts instantly flew to the events of the tilt. Somehow this little girl seemed to have a strange influence on his destiny.
He went to the gate. The deep shadows of the huge towers were impenetrable in their opaqueness. He stepped out of the bright moonlight, his graceful figure gleaming in its gay attire, and flashing in the silver light, before he disappeared into the black shadow. The guards were keeping but a lazy watch. He pushed aside the little wicket-gate in the huge iron-studded door, and stepped out into the blackness, rendered all the blacker by the brilliancy of the landscape beyond. The shadow of the two noble towers and main ward was thrown clear and distinct across the drawbridge and road outside, while all beyond shone and sparkled in the moonbeams. A silver haze spread over the valley in the distance, and the sounds of music and revelry gaily vibrated behind.
Ralph could see no one. He looked into the shadow of the great gate. There was a sound there--a faint rustle.
"Little maid, is that you?" said Ralph.
A sharp spasm, a burning pain, was the sudden answer, and Ralph knew no more.
