"Nay, that I know not," said the prisoner. "All I know is what the Count told me, which was, that she was his dead brother's leman, and the boy a bastard, whom he did not believe even to be his brother's child. They wanted money from him, I fancy, on some old written promise of the last count--a thousand Venetian ducats yearly--so he told me; and he thought it best to give me two years of the payment, and have done with it for ever."
"Is this all you know of this matter?" asked the Black Rider again.
"All, upon my life!" answered the Baron. "They are both dead--that is certain; but I had no hand in their death, I will swear upon the holy cross." The gigantic figure remained motionless and silent for more than a minute, then waved his hand from right to left with a peculiar motion. The Baron turned his head, in some doubt whether he should not see the naked sword behind him taking the same direction towards his neck; but suddenly the man who held the torch reversed it, pressed the flaming end upon the ground and the next moment all was darkness.
Ferdinand of Altenburg had listened in silence to all that had passed. There were many parts of this long interrogatory in which he felt a deep interest; but that interest was too keen, too overpowering, to suffer him, even by a word, to interrupt the course of the questions and replies. There was an awe upon him--he knew not well why--that would have kept him silent even had he not been listening eagerly for every syllable. It seemed as if the secret of his life were in the words then spoken. Sentence by sentence associated itself with other things within his knowledge. The scenes of his childhood rose up before him, the flight in the night from a place, the name of which had long passed away from memory, but which instantly connected itself with Ulm, as soon as the word was pronounced. The house at Regensburg, and that name, too, and the death-bed of his mother when he was yet a child, with many another incident, breaking from spots in the past which had before seemed dark, like the sparks of fire wandering about in the half-extinguished tinder, were all brought up vividly before the mind's eye, till at length he was almost tempted to exclaim, "You are wrong. The mother did die, but the boy still lives." He would fain have asked some questions more; and, just as the torch was extinguished, he took a step forward, but instantly a hand was laid upon his arm, not grasping tight as before, but gently; and a voice whispered in his ear, "Not a word; but follow. A horse is ready for you, and we must ride far ere break of day."
Ferdinand scrupled not to obey, for he had been about to act upon impulse; and a moment's thought showed him that it would be better to say nothing. Turning, then, with the person who had spoken, and who still kept his hand lightly upon the young man's arm, he passed through a part of the crowd, every individual in which remained profoundly silent, and paused where the other paused, near the old ruinous gateway, through which the dark masses of the hills and woods around and below could be faintly seen in the dim night air. Suddenly there was a sound of moving feet and horses' hoofs; and man after man passed through the archway, till at length the person beside him said, "Now!" Ferdinand went on, the other followed; and when they issued forth, the young man saw a whole troop mounted, a number of horses held at a little distance, and two standing immediately in front.
"Go on, and mount," said the voice, in the same low tone.
Ferdinand advanced, without further question, and put his foot in the stirrup of the foremost horse. The man who had the bridle in his hand said nothing, and the young gentleman vaulted into the saddle. His companion followed, and they then joined the group before them. Two more horses were next brought forward, other persons mounted, and at length the tall black figure came forth from the arch of the gate, leapt upon a charger a full hand higher than any of the rest, and then riding forward, past all those who were already in the saddle, put himself at the head of the troop. A signal was given from the front, the whole body began to move in exact order, and Ferdinand of Altenburg found himself forming a part of the band of the Black Huntsman.
CHAPTER XXXV.
Adelaide was sad, though the words of the priest had, in some degree, allayed the anxiety she felt for him she loved; but yet she was sad--very sad. There were now other causes of depression weighing down her mind, which during the fever of apprehension she had not experienced. She now felt what it was to quit her father's house, a fugitive--under his anger--under, perhaps, his curse. There might indeed be matter of consolation in her thoughts; there might be a full justification of her conduct to her own heart. She might feel, or might believe, that she had done no wrong. Scanning her motives as severely as she could, she might, with a clear conscience, say, that not for any personal feeling,--not for love, or from weakness, had she neglected a duty to a parent; that passion, or fancy, or attachment, had not shared, even in a degree, in what she had done. Though she loved as deeply as she was loved in return, and owned to her own heart that she had made no sacrifice of aught but the girl's timidity, still it was sad to quit the home of youth as an outcast. It weighed upon her that her father's last words to her should have been those of anger and bitterness; that the eye which had ever looked beaming upon her, even when it fell cold and harsh on others, should at length have blazed with rage as it rested on her face.
Apprehension, too, mingled with such painful sensations. What if the early discovery of all that had taken place should frustrate the object which had made her willing, eager in her consent? What if her absence, and that of her young husband, in a moment of peril, should leave her father exposed to the dangers from which she would fain have shielded him? Her heart sank as she thought of it; and, moreover, she said to herself, with a sigh--for all women, and most men, think of the world's opinion, more or less--"People will believe that I have yielded to love for Ferdinand to disobey my father on the most vital point, and they will condemn me justly, and think my punishment hardly severe enough."