Evening was now beginning to fall; and, very sure that Count Julian would not travel during the darkness, through a country infested by plunderers of all descriptions, the young knight, disappointed and gloomy, emerged with his followers from his concealment, and once more bent his steps slowly towards his solitary hall.
"Perhaps," said he mentally, as he pondered over his scheme and its want of success,--"perhaps I may have escaped more bitter disappointment--perchance she might have proved cold and heartless--perchance she might have loved me, yet been torn from me;--and then, when my eye was once accustomed to see her lovely form gliding through the halls of my dwelling, how could I have afterwards brooked its desolate vacancy? When my ear had become habituated to the sound of her voice in my own home, how silent would it have seemed when she were gone! No, no--doubtless, I did but scheme myself pains. 'Tis better as it is."
While these reflections were passing in his mind, he had reached the bottom of the hill, on which his castle stood, and turned his horse up the steep path. Naturally enough, as he did so, he raised his eyes to contemplate the black frowning battlements that were about to receive him once more to their stern solitude; when, to his astonishment, he saw the flutter of a woman's dress upon the outward walls, and a gay group of youths and maidens were seen looking down upon him from his own castle.
De Coucy at first paused from mere surprise, well knowing that his own household offered nothing such as he there beheld but the next moment, as the form of Isadore of the Mount showed itself plainly to his sight, he struck his spurs into his horse's sides, and galloped forward like lightning, eager to lay himself open to all the disappointments over which he had moralised so profoundly but a moment before.
On entering the court he found a multitude of squires stabling their horses with all the care that promised a long stay and, the moment after, he was accosted by old Sir Julian of the Mount himself, who informed him that, finding himself not so well as he could wish, he had come to crave his hospitality for a day's lodging, during which time he might communicate to him, he said, some important matter for his deep consideration. This last announcement was made in one of those low and solemn tones intended to convey great meaning; and, perhaps, even Sir Julian wished to imply, that his ostensible reason for visiting the castle of De Coucy was but a fine political covering, to veil the more immediate and interesting object of his coming.
"But how now. Sir Guy!" added he; "surely you have been disguising yourself! With that sack over your armour, for a cotte d'armes, and the elm branch twisted round your casque, you look marvellous like a coterel.
"By my faith! good Sir Julian," replied De Coucy with his usual frankness, "I look but like what I intended then. The truth is, hearing of your passing, I arrayed my men like cotereaux, and laid an ambush for you, intending to take you at a disadvantage, and making you prisoner, to bring you here; where, in all gentle courtesy, I would have entreated your stay for some few days, to force a boar and hear a lay, and forget your weightier thoughts for a short space. But, by the holy rood! I find I have made a strange mistake; for, while I went to take you, it seems you have taken my castle itself!"
"Good, good! very good!" cried Sir Julian; "but come with me. Sir Guy. Isadore has found her way to the battlements already, and is looking out at the view, which, she says, is fine. For my part, I love no fine views but politic ones.--Come, follow me.--Let me see, which is the way?--Oh, here--No, 'tisn't.--This is a marvellous stronghold, Sir Guy! Which is the way?"
Cursing Sir Julian's slow vanity, in striving to lead the way through a castle he did not know, with its lord at his side, Sir Guy de Coucy stepped forward, and, with a foot of light, mounted the narrow staircase in the wall, that led to the outer battlements.
"Stay, stay! Sir Guy!" cried the old man. "By the rood! you go so fast, 'tis impossible to follow! You young men forget we old men get short of breath; and, though our brains be somewhat stronger than yours, 'tis said, our legs are not altogether so swift."