s studio. The
latter, descending at once, called his wife, exchanged a few words with
her, the import of which was to keep herself invisible, and, accustomed
to a ready obedience, he leaped upon his horse and spurred for the
castle. The distance was not greater than half a league, yet to Gilbert
he was absent an age.

It was quite dark before Humbert had completed the disguises to his
satisfaction. His own was a masterpiece in its way. He assumed a grace
and a lightness that might well become a minstrel of no ordinary degree.
The character of his face was completely changed, and was reduced, by
means of long flaxen curls and other artificial additions, from frank
manliness to almost feminine delicacy. The Lord of Hers himself could
not have recognized his son in the drooping, swarthy, gypsy-looking
figure that stood beside Humbert. Gilbert's head was enveloped in
something like a cowl, and his whole figure was muffled up in a coarse
brown cloak. Thus attired, he was to play the part of a Bohemian
harp-bearer.

The moment the finishing touches were put, the impatient youth hurried
the more cautious yeoman to the saddle. The rain had ceased to fall, but
the sky was still overcast and threatening. Though the moon was more
than half full, they had barely light enough to justify the rapid pace
at which the noble led the way. It was a little out of character for the
minnesinger to carry his own instrument when a harp-bearer was so near
at hand. But Humbert knew how to sling the harp across his back, and
Gilbert, a mere novice in the art, would have found the burden
excessively embarrassing. Gilbert pressed forward without opening his
lips or looking behind, until they had entered the lordship of Stramen.
Humbert, respecting the humors of his superior, followed just as
silently. But he began to grow anxious as they kept advancing, and he
could not repress an exclamation of surprise as Gilbert halted on the
brink of the ravine we have described before, within a league of the
castle. They led their horses down into the gully and tied them to two
stout trees.

"Give me the harp!" exclaimed the youth, commanding rather than
entreating. Humbert surrendered the instrument without a word, and they
emerged from the ravine. They walked on, side by side, still in silence;
for Gilbert's mind was wrought up to the highest pitch, and held too
thrilling communion with itself to notice his companion, except at brief
intervals. But when t