nd puissant knight, the Beausire
Charles Eutache de Ribaumont Nid-de-Merle, his son walking behind in a
long black mantle, and all who counted kindred of friendship following
two and two; then all the servants, every one who properly belonged to
the castle, were counted out by the brothers from their windows, and
Guibert among them.

'Messieurs,' a low, anxious voice sounded in the room.

'We will only fetch Osbert.'

It was a terrible only, as precious moments slipped away before there
appeared in the lower chamber Berenger and Humfrey, dragging between
them a squalid wretch, with a skin like stained parchment over a
skeleton, tangled hair and beard, staring bewildered eyes, and fragments
of garments, all dust, dirt, and rags.

'Leave me, leave me, dear master,' said the object, stretching his whole
person towards the fire as they let him sink down before it. 'You would
but ruin yourself.'

'It is madness to take him,' said Aime, impatiently.

'I go not without him,' said Berenger. 'Give me the soup, Philip.'

Some soup and wine had been placed by the fire, and likewise a shirt and
a suit of Humfrey's clothes were spread before it. Aime burst out into
the yard, absolutely weeping with impatience, when, unheeding all his
remonstrances, his three companions applied themselves to feeding,
rubbing, and warming Osbert, and assuring him that the pains in his
limbs would pass away with warmth and exercise. He had been valiant
of heart in his dungeon; but his sudden plunge into upper air was like
rising from the grave, and brought on all the effects of his dreary
captivity, of which he had hardly been sensible when he had first
listened to the voice of hope.

Dazzled, crippled, helpless, it seemed almost impossible that he should
share the flight, but Berenger remained resolute; and when Aime returned
from his fourth frantic promenade, he was told that all was ready.

But for the strength of Berenger and Humfrey the poor fellow could never
have been carried up and up, nearly to the top of the keep, then along
a narrow gallery, then down again even to the castle hall, now empty,
though with the candle-sticks still around where the bier had been.
Aime knelt for a moment where the head had been, hiding his face; Osbert
rested in a chair; and Philip looked wistfully up at his own sword hung
over the chimney.

'Resume your swords, Messieurs,' said Aime, observing him; 'Madame
desires it; and take pistols also.'

They