At night the castle was barricaded as usual, and no one had observed the hole which Parley had made in the hedge.  This oversight arose that night from the servants neglecting one of the master’s standing orders—­to make a nightly examination of the state of the castle.  The neglect did not proceed so much from wilful disobedience, as from having passed the evening in sloth and diversion, which often amounts to nearly the same in its consequences.

As all was very cheerful within, so all was very quiet without.  And before they went to bed some of the servants observed to the rest, that as they heard no robbers that night, they thought they might soon begin to remit something of their diligence in bolting and barring.  That all this fastening and looking was very troublesome, and they hoped the danger was now pretty well over.  It was rather remarkable, that they never made this sort of observations, but after an evening of some excess, and when they had neglected their private business with their master.  All, however, except Parley, went quietly to bed, and seemed to feel uncommon security.

Parley crept down to his lodge.  He had half a mind to go to bed too.  Yet he was not willing to disappoint Mr. Flatterwell; so civil a gentleman.  To be sure, he might have bad designs.  Yet what right had he to suspect any body who made such professions, and who was so very civil.  “Besides, it is something for my advantage,” added Parley.  “I will not open the door, that is certain; but as he is to come alone, he can do me no harm through the bars of the windows.  And he will think I am a coward, if I don’t keep my word; no, I will let him see that I am not afraid of my own strength; I will show him I can go what length I please, and stop short when I please.”  Had Flatterwell heard this boastful speech, he would have been quite sure of his man.

About eleven Parley heard the signal agreed upon.  It was so gentle as to cause little alarm.  So much the worse.  Flatterwell never frightened any one, and therefore seldom failed of any one.  Parley stole softly down, planted himself at his little window, opened the casement, and spied his new friend.  It was pale starlight.  Parley was a little frightened, for he thought he perceived one or two persons behind Flatterwell; but the other assured him it was only his own shadow, which his fears had magnified into a company.  “Though I assure you,” said he, “I have not a friend but what is as harmless as myself.”

They now entered into earnest discourse, in which Flatterwell showed himself a deep politician.  He skilfully mixed up in his conversation a proper proportion of praise on the pleasures of the wilderness, of compliments to Parley, of ridicule on his master, and of abusive sneers on the book in which the master’s laws were written.  Against this last he had always a particular spite, for he considered it as the grand instrument by which the master maintained his servants