“Had we not better wait until the rain abates?”

“It is abating now,” replied Gilbert.

It was true:  the first frenzy of the storm was over, and there was coming a pause in its wild career.

“There!” resumed the youth; “you can ride to the castle and bring two good horses before it begins again.  Quick!  I shall wait here.”

“You had better wait upstairs, out of sight,” suggested Humbert.

“You are right.”

“This way, my lord;” and, followed by his retainer, the young noble ascended to a room that might have been called Humbert’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 they came within full view of the dim turrets of Stramen Castle, and the youth kept steadily advancing toward them, Humbert stopped short, and perceiving that Gilbert still advanced, he made bold to stay the rash stripling by touching his arm.