the wind.

On entering the old castle he could scarcely recognize its dark walls.
All the windows were festooned with leaves and flowers within and
without; the courtyard was strewn with fragrant grass; on one side was
spread tables groaning under their weight; on the other, musicians,
mounted on casks, were playing merry airs. The vassals, dressed in
their holiday attire, were singing and dancing and dancing and
singing. It was a great day of rejoicing at the castle. The baron
himself was smiling. It is true that he had just married his fifth
daughter to the Knight of Kervalec. This marriage added another
quartering to the illustrious escutcheon of the Kervers.

Yvon, recognized and welcomed by all the crowd, was instantly
surrounded by his relatives, who embraced him and shook him by the
hand. Where had he been? Where did he come from? Had he conquered a
kingdom, a duchy, or a barony? Had he brought the bride the jewels of
some queen? Had the fairies protected him? How many rivals had he
overthrown? All these questions were showered upon him without reply.
Yvon respectfully kissed his father's hand, hastened to his sisters'
chamber, took two of their finest dresses, went to the stable, saddled
a pony, mounted a beautiful Spanish jennet, and was about to quit the
castle, when he found his relatives, friends, and vassals all standing
in his way, their glasses in their hands, ready to drink their young
lord's health and his safe return.

Yvon gracefully thanked them, bowed, and made his way by degrees
through the crowd, when, just as he was about to cross the drawbridge,
a fair-haired lady, with a haughty and disdainful air, a stranger to
him, a sister of the bridegroom, perhaps, approached him, holding a
pomegranate in her hand.

"My handsome knight," said she, with a singular smile, "you surely
will not refuse a lady's first request. Taste this pomegranate, I
entreat you. If you are neither hungry nor thirsty after so long a
journey, I suppose at least that you have not forgotten the laws of
politeness."

Yvon dared not refuse this appeal. He was very wrong. Scarcely had he
tasted the pomegranate when he looked round him like a man waking from
a dream.

"What am I doing on this horse?" thought he. "What means this pony
that I am leading? Is not my place in my father's house at my sister's
wedding? Why should I quit the castle?"

He threw the bridle to one of the grooms, leaped lightly to the
ground, and offer