She declared to him that if he would carry away the lovely duchess to
his own city Troy, he might do so, and thus cause the ruin of his whole
house and of his country; but that during ten years he would be able to
defend himself in Troy, and rejoice in the sweet love of Helen."

"And he accepted those terms, or he was a fool!" cried the youth.

"To be sure he accepted them," whispered the little Master. "I would
have done so in his place! And do you know, young sir, the look of
things then was just as they are happening to-day. The newly-risen moon,
partly veiled by clouds, was shining dimly through the thick branches of
the trees in the silence of evening. Leaning against an old tree, as you
now are doing, stood the young enamoured knight Paris, and at his side
the enchantress Venus, but so disguised and transformed, that she did
not look much more beautiful than I do. And by the silvery light of the
moon, the form of the beautiful beloved one was seen sweeping by alone
amidst the whispering boughs." He was silent, and like as in the mirror
of his deluding words, Gabrielle just then actually herself appeared,
musing as she walked alone down the alley of elms.

"Man,--fearful Master,--by what name shall I call you? To what would you
drive me?" muttered the trembling Sintram.

"Thou knowest thy father's strong stone castle on the Moon-rocks?"
replied the old man. "The castellan and the garrison are true and
devoted to thee. It could stand a ten years' siege; and the little gate
which leads to the hills is open, as was that of the citadel of Sparta
for Paris."

And, in fact, the youth saw through a gate, left open he knew not how,
the dim, distant mountains glittering in the moonlight. "And if he did
not accept, he was a fool," said the little Master, with a grin, echoing
Sintram's former words.

At that moment Gabrielle stood close by him. She was within reach of his
grasp, had he made the least movement; and a moonbeam, suddenly breaking
forth, transfigured, as it were, her heavenly beauty. The youth had
already bent forward--

"My Lord and God, I pray,
Turn from his heart away
This world's turmoil;
And call him to Thy light,
Be it through sorrow's night,
Through pain or toil."

These words were sung by old Rolf at that very time, as he lingered
on the still margin of the castle fish-pond, where he prayed alone to
H