black would come off badly, did I not attend to him."

Presently came Carloman's voice: "O Osmond de Centeville! is Richard
better?"

"He is better, my Lord, I thank you, but hardly yet out of danger."

"Oh, I wish he was well! And when will you let me come to him, Osmond?
Indeed, I would sit quiet, and not disturb him."

"It may not be yet, my Lord, though the Duke loves you well--he told me
so but now."

"Did he? Oh, tell him I love him very much--better than any one
here--and it is very dull without him. Tell him so, Osmond."

Richard could hardly help calling out to his dear little Carloman; but he
remembered the peril of Osmond's eyes and the Queen's threat, and held
his peace, with some vague notion that some day he would make Carloman
King of France. In the meantime, half stifled with the straw, he felt
himself carried on, down the steps, across the court; and then he knew,
from the darkness and the changed sound of Osmond's tread, that they were
in the stable. Osmond laid him carefully down, and whispered--"All right
so far. You can breathe?"

"Not well. Can't you let me out?"

"Not yet--not for worlds. Now tell me if I put you face downwards, for I
cannot see."

He laid the living heap of straw across the saddle, bound it on, then led
out the horse, gazing round cautiously as he did so; but the whole of the
people of the Castle were feasting, and there was no one to watch the
gates. Richard heard the hollow sound of the hoofs, as the drawbridge
was crossed, and knew that he was free; but still Osmond held his arm
over him, and would not let him move, for some distance. Then, just as
Richard felt as if he could endure the stifling of the straw, and his
uncomfortable position, not a moment longer, Osmond stopped the horse,
took him down, laid him on the grass, and released him. He gazed around;
they were in a little wood; evening twilight was just coming on, and the
birds sang sweetly.

"Free! free!--this is freedom!" cried Richard, leaping up in the
delicious cool evening breeze; "the Queen and Lothaire, and that grim
room, all far behind."

"Not so far yet," said Osmond; "you must not call yourself safe till the
Epte is between us and them. Into the saddle, my Lord; we must ride for
our lives."

[Picture: Escape from captivity]

Osmond helped the Duke to mount, and sprang to the saddle behind him, set
spurs to the horse, and rode on at a quick rate, though not