"That rests largely with Count Heinrich—and—and with you. If you desire my presence, or my absence, I shall endeavour to fulfil your wish."
"Your own affairs will not be bettered by your absence from them I fear."
"Indeed," said Rodolph, with a laugh, "I doubt if it will make great difference either way."
"If that is truly the case, I would be—I think my uncle will need all the stout hearts he can muster round him."
"My own wish is to stay. But we will see what the morrow brings. Meanwhile, you are tired, and little wonder. I wish you good rest, and I am sure you may sleep in serene peace of mind, for your troubles are at an end."
With that he took leave of her, sighing to think they were no longer alone together, he her sole protector, and so it may have chanced that his eyes spoke what his lips dare not utter, but if this were the case Tekla had no censure for him, but sighed in company, though so lightly he did not hear as he turned away.
The ancient man, who was patiently waiting for him, had now a torch in his hand, which he lighted when he came to the courtyard, applying it to another that flared in an iron receptacle fastened to the stone wall. He led the way to one of the round towers, and climbed slowly up a narrow stone stair, passing several doors, but stopping at none until he seemed to have reached the top. Then, resting his torch in an iron holder, he, with much effort, drew back heavy bolts and threw open the door. The torch lighted a round chamber in which were three narrow windows in the thick stone, wide at the inner surface of the wall, but narrowing to a mere slit, with scarce room for a man's hand to penetrate to the outer air. A pallet of straw lay by the wall furthest from the door, and there was in the room a rude table, and a ruder bench. The old servant placed the burning torch within the room, and muttering a good-night, withdrew, closing the door after him. A moment later Rodolph heard the bolts being shot into their places. He cried aloud, beating the stout oaken panels with the hilt of his rapier.
"Here, fellow. You are exceeding your instructions. The Count said nothing of my being barred in. I am no prisoner, but a guest."
But the old man did not draw the bolts.
"The instructions ever follow the order given. Take him to the round guest-chamber, says my Lord, which means also, bolt him in there."