CHAPTER LXVII.
VISCOUNT DUNDRENNAN.

Towards the latter end of October, when the brown or ruddy autumnal tints were stealing over the chestnut forests of the Vosges, a day of gloom had closed, and, as the night drew on, the red lurid light behind the mountains to the westward of Lutzelstein denoted a coming storm. There was a solemn stillness in the valley, and the hoarse brawl of the cascade beneath the castle-wall rang clearly on the dewy air. Smoking a Dutch pipe, I sat on the platform of the keep, immersed in reverie, and hoping a storm might come on, as a little variety, when the form of a horseman, far off, galloping along the defile below, caught my eye; and as every stray passenger became an object of interest and source of speculation in that solitary place, I watched him as long as the light made him visible. I soon discerned that he was armed, and wore a helmet, and that he seemed to have come by the road which led towards the Rhine. He was well mounted, for he rode swiftly; yet the light faded away, and the moon had risen, amid black and flitting clouds, which afforded momentary gleams of witchlike light, before he halted at the gate of Lutzelstein, and with a Scottish tongue replied to the challenge of the Scottish sentinel. Ruthven summoned me from the usual scene of my meditations, and on descending to the arched hall, wherein ten huge candles in sconces of tin flared like torches in the wind, I saw a tall and handsome cavalier, completely armed in the trappings of the Guard. He was Dundrennan, who turned and embraced me.

'Viscount—you here!' I exclaimed.

'Why not?' said he, throwing aside his sword and gloves; 'am I not welcome to this new castle of king Louis?'

'But, here without an escort!'

'Tush! the whole country is clear of men now, and, unfortunately, of women too, which I find much more insupportable; but get me some wine if you have any, for I am sorely athirst by my long ride. By Jove! they have capital wine at Maltzheim, and you are certain to have some of the same stuff here.'

'And you have come from——'

'Seltz, twenty-seven miles north of Strasbourg, where we are blocking up a body of fugitives under De Bitche, and pouring such a fire of shot and shell upon them, that those who die there will not deem the lower world quite so hot as people say.'

'And to what do I owe the pleasure of seeing you?'