It was, without doubt, to observe the beauty and grandeur of this structure, that two travellers who had toiled slowly up the path leading from the village of Camens, now paused and looked with wondering glances at the cloister.

“There must be a splendid view from the tower,” said the oldest and smaller of the travellers to his tall and slender companion, who was gazing with rapture at the enchanting landscape.

“It must indeed be a glorious prospect,” he replied with a respectful bow.

“It affords a splendid opportunity to look far and wide over the land, and to see if the Austrian troops are really on the march,” said the other, with a stern and somewhat hasty tone.  “Let us enter and ascend the tower.”

The youth bowed silently, and followed, at some little distance, the hasty steps of his companion.  They reached the platform, and stood for a moment to recover breath.

“We have reached the summit—­if we were only safely down again.”

“We can certainly descend; the question is, under what circumstances?”

“You mean, whether free or as prisoners?  Well, I see no danger; we are completely disguised, and no one knows me here.  The Abbot Amandus is dead, and the new abbot is unknown to me.  Let us make haste; ring the bell.”

The youth was in the act of obeying, when suddenly a voice cried out:  “Don’t sound the bell—­I will come myself and open the door.”

A man had been standing at the upper story, by an open window, and heard the conversation of the two travellers.  He drew in his head hastily and disappeared.

“It seems I am not so unknown as I supposed,” said the smaller of the two gentlemen, with a quiet smile.

“Who knows whether these monks are reliable and true?” whispered the other.

“You certainly would not doubt these exalted servants of God?  I, for my part, shall believe in their sincerity till they convince me of the contrary.  Ah! the door is opened.”

The small door was indeed open, and a monk came out, and hastily drew near to the two travellers.

“I am the Abbot Tobias Stusche; I am also a man wholly devoted to the King of Prussia, though he does not know me.”

The abbot laid such a peculiar expression upon these last words, that the strangers were forced to remark them.

“Do you not know the King of Prussia?” said the elder, fixing his eagle eye upon the kindly and friendly face of the abbot.

“I know the king when he does not wish to be incognito,” said the abbot, with a smile.

“If the king were here, would you counsel him to remain incognito?”

“I would counsel that; some among my monks are Austrian in sympathy, and I hear the Austrians are at hand.”

“My object is to look out from your tower after the Austrians.  Let us enter; show us the way.”

The abbot said nothing, but entered the cloister hastily, and cast a searching glance in every direction.