Sounds of wailing were heard from the castle as they approached; the
chapel was solemnly lighted up; within it knelt Gabrielle, lamenting for
the death of the Knight of Montfaucon.
But how quickly was all changed, when the noble baron, pale indeed, and
bleeding, yet having escaped all mortal danger, stood smiling at the
entrance of the holy building, and said, in a low, gentle voice, “Look
up, Gabrielle, and be not affrighted; for, by the honour of my race, thy
knight still lives.” Oh! with what joy did Gabrielle’s eyes sparkle, as
she turned to her knight, and then raised them again to heaven, still
streaming, but from the deep source of thankful joy! With the help of
two pages, Folko knelt down beside her, and they both sanctified their
happiness with a silent prayer.
When they left the chapel, the wounded knight being tenderly supported
by his lady, Sintram was standing without in the darkness, himself as
gloomy as the night, and, like a bird of the night, shunning the sight
of men. Yet he came trembling forward into the torch-light, laid the
bear’s head and claws at the feet of Gabrielle, and said, “The noble
Folko of Montfaucon presents the spoils of to-day’s chase to his lady.”
The Norwegians burst forth with shouts of joyful surprise at the
stranger knight, who in the very first hunting expedition had slain the
most fearful and dangerous beast of their mountains.
Then Folko looked around with a smile as he said, “And now none of you
must jeer at me, if I stay at home for a short time with my timid wife.”
Those who the day before had talked together in the armourer’s forge
came out from the crowd, and bowing low, they replied, “Noble baron,
who could have thought that there was no knightly exercise in the whole
world in the which you would not show yourself far above all other men?”
“The pupil of old Sir Hugh may be somewhat trusted,” answered Folko
kindly. “But now, you bold northern warriors, bestow some praises also
on my deliverer, who saved me from the claws of the she-bear, when I was
leaning against the rock wounded by my fall.”
He pointed to Sintram, and the general shout was again raised; and old
Rolf, with tears of joy in his eyes, bent his head over his foster-son’s
hand. But Sintram drew back shuddering.
“Did you but know,” said he, “whom you see before you, all your spears
would be aimed at my heart; and perhaps that would be the best thing for
me. But I spare the honour of my father and of his race, and for this
time I will not confess. Only this much must you know, noble warriors--”
“Young man,” interrupted Folko with a reproving look, “already again
so wild and fierce? I desire that thou wilt hold thy peace about thy
dreaming fancies.”
Sintram was silenced for a moment; but hardly had Folko begun smilingly
to move towards the steps of the castle, than he cried out, “Oh, no, no,
noble wounded knight, stay yet awhile; I will serve thee in everything
that thy heart can desire; but herein I cannot serve thee. Brave
warriors, you must and shall know so much as this; I am no longer worthy
to live under the same roof with the noble Baron of Montfaucon and his
angelic wife Gabrielle. And you, my aged father, good-night; long not
for me. I intend to live in the stone fortress on the Rocks of the Moon,
till a change of some kind come over me.”
There was that in his way of speaking against which no one dared to set
himself, not even Folko.
The wild Biorn bowed his head humbly, and said, “Do according to thy
pleasure, my poor son; for I fear that thou art right.”
Then Sintram walked solemnly and silently through the castle-gate,
followed by the good Rolf. Gabrielle led her exhausted lord up to their
apartments.