hold a row of windows brilliantly lit as if for a festival.

"Now, by my vow," says Roland, "methought I knew well every chateau in
this land of Brittany, nor wist I that seigneur or count held court
in this forest of Broceliande."

Resolved to view the chateau at still closer quarters, he draws near
it. A great court fronts him where neither groom nor porter keeps
guard, and within he can see a fair hall. This he enters, and
immediately his ears are ravished by music which wanders through the
chamber like a sighing zephyr. The murmur of rich viols and the call
of flutes soft as distant bird-song speak to his very soul. Yet
through the ecstasy comes, like a serpent gliding among flowers, the
discord of evil thoughts. Grasping his rosary, he is about to retire
when the doors at the end of the hall fly open, and he beholds a
rapturous vision. Upon a couch of velvet sits a lady of such dazzling
beauty that all other women compared with her would seem as
kitchen-wenches. A mantle of rich golden hair falls about her, her
eyes shine with the brightness of stars, her smile seems heavenly.
Round her are grouped nine maidens only less beautiful than herself.

As the moon moving among attendant stars, so the lady comes toward
Roland, accompanied by her maidens. She welcomes him, and would
remove his gauntlet, but he tells her of the vow he has made to wear
it in lady's bower, and she is silent. Next she asks him to seat
himself beside her on the couch, but he will not. In some confusion
she orders a repast to be brought. A table is spread with fragrant
viands, but as the knight will partake of none of them, in chagrin the
lady takes a lute, which she touches with exquisite skill. He listens
unmoved, till, casting away her instrument, she dances to him,
circling round and round about him, flitting about his chair like a
butterfly, until at length she sinks down near him and lays her head
upon his mailed bosom. Upward she turns her face to him, all
passion-flushed, her eyes brimming with love. Sir Roland falters.
Fascinated by her unearthly beauty, he is about to stoop down to
press his lips to hers. But as he bends his head she shrinks from
him, for she sees the tender flush of morning above the eastern
tree-tops. The living stars faint and fail, and the music of awakening
life which accompanies the rising of the young sun falls upon the
ear. Slowly the chateau undergoes transformation. The glittering roof
merges into the blue