He motioned his friend near, and whispered between gasping breaths, “I—beg—you—to—go—to—the—castle—of—my—betrothed—and—tell—why—I—did—not—keep—my—appointment.”
Then gathering strength, he added in a stronger voice, “Unless this is done, I shall not sleep quietly in my grave!”
He spoke so solemnly that his friend gave his promise without hesitating. This seemed to soothe him, and he closed his eyes as if in sleep, but he soon began to talk wildly, and call for his horse, saying he must hasten to the home of his bride, and thinking he was leaping into the saddle, he suddenly drew his last breath.
His friend was deeply grieved. His heart was heavy within him. He scarcely knew how to keep his promise, for he was the son of the nobleman whose castle the maiden had been forbidden to mention; and, because of the feud between the two families, he hated all the more to be the bearer of such bad news. Still he thought that he would like to see the lovely girl, and he felt that he must try to carry out the promise he had made to his dying friend. So he made arrangements for the poor count’s burial in the cathedral near the graves of his noble ancestors, and set out on his journey.
It is now high time that we should return to the castle, where everybody was hungrily awaiting the guest.
Night closed in, but still no guest arrived. The baron descended from the high tower in despair.
“It is so dark that I can see nothing now,” he said. “There is no use in watching longer.”
The banquet had been postponed from hour to hour. The cooks in the kitchen were desperate. The meats were already overdone, and every one was beginning to look as though it were a time of famine.
“We cannot delay longer,” the baron finally said. “I fear we must proceed with the feast without our guest.”
All were seated at the table and on the point of commencing, when the sound of a horn from outside the gate gave notice that a stranger was approaching.