Accordingly he put spurs to his horse, and very shortly found himself before a gothic castle, at the iron gate of which he loudly knocked, and was answered from within by—“Who’s there?” But ere he was allowed time to reply, the gate was opened. However, in the first court he was compelled to wait with patience, till they could learn whether it was the lord of the castle’s pleasure to flagellate a traveller, or send him out to pass the night under the canopy of heaven.
The lord of the castle had from his earliest infancy served in the Imperial army, under the command of George of Funsberg, and had himself led a company of infantry against the Venetians. At length, however, fatigued with warfare, he had retired to his own territory, where, in order to expiate the crimes he had committed during the several campaigns he had been in, he did all the good and charitable acts in his power. But his manner still retained all the roughness of his former profession. The newly-arrived guest, although disposed to submit to the usages of the house, for the sake of the good fare, could not help feeling a certain trembling of fear as he heard the bolts grating, ere the doors were opened to him; and which, by their groaning noise, seemed to presage the catastrophe which awaited him. A cold perspiration came over him as he passed the last door; but finding that he received the utmost attention, his fears a little abated. The servants assisted him in getting off his horse, and unfastened his cloak-bag; some of them led his horse to the stable, whilst others preceding him with flambeaux, conducted him to their master, who awaited his arrival in a room magnificently lighted up.
Poor Francis was seized with a universal tremor, when he beheld the martial air and athletic form of the lord of the castle, who came up to him and shook him by the hand with so much force as nearly to make him cry out, and in a thundering voice, enough to stun him, told him he was welcome. Francis trembled like an aspen leaf in every part of his body.
“What ails you, my young comrade?” cried the chevalier Bronkhorst; “what makes you thus tremble, and render you as pale as if death had actually seized you in the throat?”
Francis recovered himself; and knowing that his shoulders would pay his reckoning, his fears gave place to a species of audacity.
“My lord,” answered he with confidence, “you see that I am so soaked with rain that one might suppose I had swam through the Wezer; order me therefore some dry clothes instead of these I have on, and let us then drink a cup of hot wine, that I may, if possible, prevent the fever, which otherwise may probably seize me. It will comfort my heart.”
“Admirable!” replied the chevalier; “ask for whatever you want, and consider yourself here as at home.”
Accordingly Francis gave his orders like a baron of high degree: he sent away the wet clothes, made choice of others, and, in fine, made himself quite at his ease. The chevalier, so far from expressing any dissatisfaction at his free and easy manners, commanded his people to execute whatever he ordered with promptitude, and condemned some of them as blockheads, who did not appear to know how to wait on a stranger. As soon as the table was spread, the chevalier seated himself at it with his guest; and they drank a cup of hot wine together.
“Do you wish for any thing to eat?” demanded the lord.
Francis desired he would order up what his house afforded, that he might see whether his kitchen was good.