The baron followed the stranger to the great court of the castle, where the black horse stood pawing the earth and snorting with impatience.
When they reached the portal whose deep, high archway was dimly lighted by a lantern, the stranger paused and spoke to the baron in a hollow tone of voice.
“Now that we are alone,” said he, “I will tell you my reason for leaving. I have an engagement in——”
“Why,” asked the baron, “cannot you send some one in your place?”
“I must keep this engagement myself—I must go myself——”
“Ay,” said the baron, “but not until to-morrow—to-morrow you shall take your bride there.”
“No! No!” replied the stranger with greater solemnity. “My engagement is with no bride. The grave awaits me! I must go back where I came from!”
He sprang upon his black charger, dashed over the drawbridge, and the sound of the clatter of his horse’s hoofs was lost in the whistling of the night’s blast.
The baron watched him until out of sight, then muttered, “He must have been a ghost!”
He returned to the hall in great bewilderment, and related what had just passed. Two ladies fainted; others sickened with the idea of having banqueted with a spectre.