wine. A page stood in respectful
attendance near the bottom of the large and dim apartment, and no sound
was heard save that of the night wind, when it sighed mournfully through
the rusty coats of mail, and waved the tattered banners which were the
tapestry of the feudal hall. At once the footstep of a person was heard
ascending the stairs in haste and trepidation; the door of the hall was
thrown violently open, and, terrified to a degree of ecstasy, Caspar, the
head of the baron's stable, or his master of horse, stumbled up almost to
the foot of the table at which his lord was seated, with the exclamation
in his mouth--'My lord, my lord, a fiend is in the stable!' 'What means
this folly?' said the baron, arising, surprised and displeased at an
interruption so unusual. 'Let me endure your displeasure,' said Caspar,
'if I speak not truth! Apollyon--' Here he paused. 'Speak out, thou
frightened fool,' said the baron; 'is my horse sick, or injured?' The
master of the stalls again gasped forth the word 'Apollyon!' 'Say on,'
said the baron; 'were Apollyon in presence personally, it were nothing to
shake a brave man's mind.' 'The devil,' answered the master of the horse,
'is in Apollyon's stall!' 'Fool!' exclaimed the nobleman, snatching a
torch from the wall; 'what is it that could have turned thy brain in such
silly fashion?'

"As he spoke, he crossed the courtyard of the castle, to visit the stately
range of stables, where fifty gallant steeds stood in rows, on each side
of the ample hall. At the side of each stall hung the weapons of offence
and defence of a man-at-arms, as bright as constant attention could make
them, together with the buff-coat which formed the trooper's under
garment. The baron, followed by one or two of the domestics, who had
assembled full of astonishment at the unusual alarm, hastened up betwixt
the rows of steeds. As he approached the stall of his favourite horse,
which was the uppermost of the right-hand row, the good steed neither
neighed, nor shook his head, nor stamped with his foot, nor gave the usual
signs of joy at his lord's approach; a faint moaning, as if he implored
assistance, was the only acknowledgment of the baron's presence. Sir
Herman held up the torch, and discovered that there was indeed a tall,
dark figure standing in the stall, resting his hand on the horse's
shoulder. 'Who art thou?' said the baron, 'and what dost thou here?' 'I
seek refuge and hospitality,' replied the strang