The baron told his longest and best stories. If he told anything marvelous, his hearers were lost in astonishment. If he told anything funny, they laughed just loud and long enough to please him greatly.
Amidst all this frolic, the stranger seemed lost in thought. His only conversation was with the bride, and seemed to grow more and more earnest and mysterious. Clouds began to steal over her fair face, and the guests noticed that she trembled.
Their gayety was chilled by such actions. The song and laughter grew less and less frequent. There were pauses in the conversation.
Dismal stories were told by several people. The baron nearly frightened some of the ladies into hysterics with the history of the ghost horseman that carried away the fair young woman, Lenora.
The bridegroom listened to this tale with great attention. He kept his eye fixed on the baron, and, as the story drew to a close, began gradually to rise from his seat, growing taller and taller, until, to the baron’s eye, he seemed almost to tower into a giant.
The moment the tale was finished, he heaved a deep sigh, and took a solemn farewell of the company. They were all in amazement. The baron was perfectly thunderstruck.
“What! going to leave the castle at midnight? Why, everything is ready for your reception; a room is ready for you if you wish to retire.”
The stranger shook his head mournfully and said: “I must lay my head in a different place to-night.”
Then waving his farewell to the company, he stalked slowly out of the hall.
The maiden aunts seemed turned to stone. The bride hung her head, and a tear stole down her cheek.