“Just as you please about that; but you will not leave the castle before I am up; we will breakfast together, and I shall accompany you to the outer gate, and take leave of you according to my usual custom.”
Francis needed no comment to render these words intelligible. Most willingly would he have dispensed with the chevalier’s company to the gate; but the latter did not appear at all inclined to deviate from his established usage. He ordered his servant to assist the stranger in undressing, and to take care of him till he was in bed.
Francis found his bed an excellent one; and ere he went to sleep, he owned that so handsome a reception could not be dearly bought at the expense of a trifling beating. The most delightful dreams (in which Meta bore the sway) occupied him the whole night; and he would have gone on (thus dreaming) till mid-day, if the sonorous voice of the chevalier and the clanking of the spurs had not disturbed him.
It needed all Francis’s efforts to quit this delightful bed, in which he was so comfortable, and where he knew himself to be in safety; he turned from side to side; but the chevalier’s tremendous voice was like a death-stroke to him, and at length he resolved to get up. Several servants assisted him in dressing, and the chevalier waited for him at a small, but well-served table; but Francis, knowing the moment of trial was at hand, had no great inclination to feast. The chevalier tried to persuade him to eat, telling him it was the best thing to keep out the fog and the damp of the morning.
“Sir knight,” replied Francis, “my stomach is still loaded from your excellent supper of last evening; but my pockets are empty, and I should much like to fill them, in order to provide against future wants.”
The chevalier evinced his pleasure at his frankness by filling his pockets with as much as they could contain. As soon as they brought him his horse, which he discovered had been well groomed and fed, he drank the last glass of wine to say Adieu, expecting that at that signal the chevalier would take him by the collar and make him pay his welcome. But, to his no small surprise, the chevalier contented himself with heartily shaking him by the hand as on his arrival; and as soon as the gate was opened, Francis rode off safe and sound.
In no way could our traveller account for his host permitting him thus to depart without paying the usual score. At length he began to imagine that the peasant had simply told him the story to frighten him; and feeling a curiosity to know whether or not it had any foundation in fact, he rode back to the castle. The chevalier had not yet quitted the gate, and was conversing with the servants on the pace of Francis’s horse, who appeared to trot very roughly; and seeing the traveller return, he supposed that he had forgotten something, and by his looks seemed to accuse his servants of negligence.
“What do you want, young man?” demanded he: “Why do you, who were so much pressed for time, return?”
“Allow me, most noble sir,” replied Francis, “to ask you one question: It is said, that, after having hospitably received and entertained strangers, you make them at their departure feel the weight of your arm. And although I gave credence to this rumour, I have omitted nothing which might have entitled me to this mark of your favour. But, strange to say, you have permitted me to depart in peace, without even the slightest mark of your strength. You see my surprise; therefore do pray inform me whether there is any foundation to the report, or whether I shall chastise the impudent story-teller who related the false tale to me.”
“Young man,” replied Bronkhorst, “you have heard nothing but the truth; but it needs some explanations. I open my door hospitably to every stranger, and in Christian charity I give them a place at my table; but I am a man who hates form or disguise: I say all I think, and only wish in return that my guests would openly and undisguisedly ask for all they want. There are unfortunately, however, a tribe of people, who fatigue by their mean complaisance and ceremony, who wear me out by their dissimulation, and stun me by propositions devoid of sense, or who do not conduct themselves with decency during the feast. Gracious heavens! I lose all patience when they carry their fooleries to such excess, and I exert my right as master of the castle, by taking hold of their collars, and giving them a tolerably severe chastisement ere I turn them out of my gates.—But a man of your sort, my young friend, will ever be welcome under my roof; for you boldly and openly ask for what you require, and say what you think; and such are the persons I admire. If in your way back you pass through this canton, promise me you will pay me another visit. Good bye. Let me caution you never to place implicit confidence in any thing you hear; believe only that there may be a single grain of truth in the whole story; be always frank, and you will succeed through life.—Heaven’s blessings attend you.”