ining a sight of the desired spot.
Nothing was left for him, therefore, than to conceal himself somewhere
in order to gratify his curiosity. On the first floor the plan was
impossible, because the many people living there would subject him to
discovery. But when he examined the gateway and the stables, which were
hewn out of the solid rock, he discovered a niche near the drawbridge,
concealed behind the wings of the gate, which were only shut when an
enemy was before the castle. This was the spot which appeared best
suited to secure him from discovery, and which afforded room enough to
enable him to observe what was going on. On the left of the niche the
drawbridge joined on to the gate, the stairs which led up to the
dwelling rooms were on the right, in front was the entrance passage,
which every one must pass who came into the castle. Albert determined
to slip into this position on the coming night.

At eight o'clock a page brought him his night lamp, and led him, as
usual, to his apartment. The lord of the castle and his daughter kindly
wished him good night. He entered his room, and dismissing his servant,
who generally assisted him to undress, threw himself on his bed in his
clothes. He listened attentively to each hour of the clock as it struck
in the village, and whose sounds were wafted towards him by the
night-breeze. He often closed his eyes, and at times fell into that
state when it requires painful exertion to combat the power of sleep.
His present object was sufficiently important to keep him on the alert,
and prevent him losing the opportunity of satisfying his curiosity. Ten
o'clock had long struck; all was as still as death in the castle. He
jumped up, took off his heavy boots and spurs, threw his cloak over
him, and cautiously opened the door of his room. He held his breath,
fearing to make the least noise; the hinges of the door creaked--he
stopped to listen whether any one had heard the treacherous sound.
Every thing remained quiet; the moon threw a dim light on the landing
place, and Albert thought himself fortunate she had not betrayed him a
second time. He glided softly towards the winding stairs, and stopped
again to listen if all was quiet; he heard nothing but the whistling of
the wind, and the rustling of the oak trees on the further side of the
bridge. He stepped carefully down the stairs. The least noise sounds
louder in the depth and quiet of night than at other times; attention
is awakened