rail, my knees
tremble under me; be thou my stay!'

He walks on thoughtfully with her, trying to speak, but saying nothing,
while around them float the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music
swells upon the air.

* * * * *

As they move on, the great clock of the castle strikes the hour. It is
fastened to the moulding high on the wall; over it sits an ancient
monarch in bronze, a ruler of many kingdoms, and at each stroke the
statue of a palatine sallies forth, bows to the king of bronze, and
again disappears within the opening wall--twelve strokes toll as they
pass, and twelve palatines appear, make obeisance, and vanish. Hark!
from the distant chambers sound the choir of female voices; vague and
dreamy the notes begin, but at each return they grow clearer and more
defined. They are gliding on from hall to hall, ever drawing nearer and
ever calling more loudly upon the bride. The old man trembles; the pale
girl falls into his arms. But soon recovering, she flies on from passage
to passage, from room to room, from gallery to gallery, from vault to
vault, everywhere pursued by the choir of bridesmaids, dragging the old
man with her, not able to utter a single word--while around them breathe
the perfumes of the flowers, and triumphal music swells upon the air.

At last they stop in the chapel of the castle, where the ancestors rest
in their coffins of stone. A few tapers burn around, and black draperies
broidered with silver flow closely round the tombs. She, the youngest
and last of the proud House, falls upon the grave of her mother,
shudders, but speaks not. The old man says to the trembling girl:

'Daughter, God did not vouchsafe to give me a male descendant to prolong
the power of our race; He blessed me only with a maiden; but thy husband
has sworn to take thy name, and thy children will bear the name of our
fathers. Honor, then, the favor with which God has crowned thee. No lady
in the land is thy equal, heiress as thou art of glory, treasures, and
estates--it is thy duty to be obedient and faithful to thy husband until
death.'

He speaks to her in soft, low tones; slowly, as if he sought with each
word to touch the heart of the silent child. She answers not, but lower
and lower droops the fair young head, until her pale face is buried in
her white hands, and the bridal wreath and veil fall from her brow upon
the grave of her mother. A low groan bursts from the heart of th