and he rushed forth,
raving mad, into the wilderness without, and ever since has wandered all
around as a crazy pilgrim."

He was silent, and so were Folko and Gabrielle, all three pale and cold
like images of the dead. At length the fearful narrator added in a low
voice, and as if he were quite exhausted: "He has visited me since that
time, but he will never again come through the little door. Have I not
established peace and order in my castle?"

CHAPTER 14

Sintram had not returned home, when those of the castle betook
themselves to rest in deep bewilderment. No one thought of him, for
every heart was filled with strange forebodings, and with uncertain
cares. Even the heroic breast of the Knight of Montfaucon heaved in
doubt.

Old Rolf still remained without, weeping in the forest, heedless of the
storm which beat on his unprotected head, while he waited for his young
master. But he had gone a very different way; and when the morning
dawned, he entered the castle from the opposite side.

Gabrielle's slumbers had been sweet during the whole night. It had
seemed to her that angels with golden wings had blown away the wild
histories of the evening before, and had wafted to her the bright
flowers, the sparkling sea, and the green hills of her own home. She
smiled, and drew her breath calmly and softly, whilst the magical
tempest raged and howled through the forests, and continued to battle
with the troubled sea. But in truth when she awoke in the morning,
and heard still the rattling of the windows, and saw the clouds, as if
dissolved in mist and steam, still hiding the face of the heavens, she
could have wept for anxiety and sadness, especially when she heard from
her maidens that Folko had already left their apartment clad in full
armour as if prepared for a combat. At the same time she heard the sound
of the heavy tread of armed men in the echoing halls, and, on inquiring,
found that the Knight of Montfaucon had assembled all his retainers to
be in readiness to protect their lady.

Wrapped in a cloak of ermine, she stood trembling like a tender flower
just sprung up out of the snow, tottering beneath a winter's storm. Then
Sir Folko entered the room, in all his shining armour, and peacefully
carrying his golden helmet with the long shadowy plumes in his hand. He
saluted Gabrielle with cheerful serenity, and at a sign from him, her
attendants retired, while the men-at-arms without were heard quietly
d