The day wore on, and the court-yard was thronged by strange and contrasted bands; the peasant in his gay costume, the vassal in his rich livery, side by side with the man-at-arms clad in glittering mail, while the servitors of the house ran hurriedly to and fro, passing with hasty steps from hall to hall, from gallery to gallery, as the confused sounds of preparation for the bridal feast awoke the echoes of the arching corridor or pillared hall.
The first quarter of the day had passed, and the shadow of the dial plate in the castle yard, was gliding over the path of high noon.
As gay a bridal party as ever the sun shone upon, waited within the walls of the chapel of St. George. They waited for the coming of the bridegroom and bride.
There were queenly ladies and beauteous damsels, gallant lords and gay cavaliers, blazing in gorgeous attire; there, mingling with the men-at-arms of Albarone, thronged the retainers of the Duke, robed in the royal livery of his house; and beside the altar stood the priest and the father, the venerable abbot of St. Peters, arrayed in his sacred robes, and the sage and thoughtful Aldarin, Count Di Albarone, attired, as was his wont, in the plain tunic of sable velvet, relieved by the sweeping robe of black, with his pale forehead surmounted by the cap of fur, glittering with a single gem.
Long will it be, by my troth, very long—thus runs the words of the ancient MSS.—ere the light of day will look down upon a scene so full of gaiety and grandeur.
The tall and swelling forms of the noble dames, arrayed in all the richest silks that the East might furnish, covered with gold and brilliant with jewels;—the noble figures of the cavaliers, their gay doublets hung with the symbols of the various orders of chivalry, their belts of every variety of ornament, and of every fancy of embroidery, their diamond-hilted swords, their jeweled caps, surmounted by nodding plumes and their cloaks of the finest velvet depending carelessly from the right shoulder, and falling in graceful folds over the arm,—combined with the glare of Milan steel worn by the men-at-arms, and the glitter of the rich liveries of the retainers of the Duke, formed a scene of vivid and contrasting interest.
The gallant party began to express their wonder at the long delayed approach of the Duke and his fair bride, and even the venerable abbot betrayed marks of impatience.
It was worthy of note, that for the space of ten minutes or more, the Count Aldarin had stood beside the priest, silent and motionless, with his eyebrows knit, and his lips compressed, while he gazed steadily at the slabs of the mosaic pavement in front of the altar, which, for the space of some half score paces or more, was left bare and unoccupied by the crowd.
At last, placing his lips to the ear of the abbot, and hurriedly glancing around, as if fearful of being observed, the Count whispered—
“What doth HE here?” he said, pointing to the pavement in front of the altar.