“Folly, nay, Alice is a good girl!”
“Good! Were I thee, I would wait, and be joyful. Thou art rich; with gold man can do all things; and I have given thee gold.”
“Verily.”
“Be happy—feast—sin! Thou art young, there is time to repent—time to repent! (He smileth; his eyes brighten; he is lost.) Go, good Raimbault, Alice will follow thee; she may be thy slave. Go, go!”
The minstrel, weak and maimed with evil thoughts, went away stumbling in the darkness.
Then the smile passed away from Bertram’s face—there was only to be read in it terrible despair battling with small hope! As a faint, warning, unearthly sound swept through the air, he trembled; and then he muttered that he had gained another soul! That he should have mercy shown him—mercy to him, the ambassador! Again the wild cry swept through the air, and Bertram’s head fell. Clasping his hands together, he moved slowly into a deep lightless cavern, and was lost in the darkness.
Treading lightly through the moonlight then came Alice, to meet Raimbault, who was surely waiting for her—surely.
“Raimbault—Raimbault!”
No answer.
“When I bade Normandy adieu,
Thus said a hermit sage to me,
Damsel, to one beloved and true,
Thou shalt e’er long united be.
Raimbault—Raimbault!”