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Page 36
Sir Sandrit forced the troubadour to sit at his side, while Gilbert
occupied a seat at the lower end of the table, among the dependents of
the house; for the arrival of a minstrel was one of those momentous
occasions when the lord of the fee welcomed his retainers to his own
board, and extended equal favor and protection to the highest and the
lowest. Humbert's animation increased as the sumptuous meal progressed,
while his naturally brilliant qualities, and a remarkable fund of wit
and anecdote, so fascinated the baron that he was wholly absorbed in the
charming Ailred. Gilbert sat silent and watchful, eating just enough to
avoid observation. When the banquet was drawing to a close, the Lady
Margaret entered the room, and glided to a seat beside the priest. The
blood rushed to Gilbert's face with such a burning thrill, that he bent
his head to hide his confusion. He trembled in the violence of his
smothered emotion. It was some minutes before he dared to look up. Her
face was exposed to his gaze, and he could see every feature distinctly.
She was still the same--ay, more than the same--she was lovelier than
ever. Regardless of discovery, he fixed his eyes upon the apparition
that had haunted him so long, and was only recalled to a sense of his
position by a loud call from the baron for the harp.
As he carried the instrument to the spot indicated by Ailred, the baron
presented the minstrel to his daughter. Humbert behaved with becoming
reverence. He took his station a few feet from the table, between Sir
Sandrit and his daughter, and began to prelude with decision and great
sweetness. Gilbert stood behind him, with his back to the baron and his
face to the Lady Margaret. Humbert, emboldened by his reception, and
perhaps inspirited by the wine, sounded the chords with admirable
effect; and when the expectation of the audience was at the highest, he
introduced a beautiful ballad, and raising his voice, sang the praises
of Rodolph of Suabia. The baron and all his followers were listening
intently to the minstrel, as, with a heaving breast and flashing eye, he
recited the glory of Suabia and of her majestic duke. Even Father Omehr
was carried away by the excited Humbert. But Gilbert's eyes and soul
were riveted upon the Lady Margaret. What was the strain to him? he
heard it not. The violent hopes and fears that had alternately shaken
him, had given way to a silent rapture; the unnatural tension of his
nerves was relaxed, and in spite of all his efforts, the tears gleamed
in his eyes. When the lay was over, the room resounded with loud
praises, and the baron threw a chain of gold around the minstrel's neck.
At this moment Margaret encountered Gilbert's eyes; she reddened with
anger at first, but almost instantaneously became pale as death. Gilbert
saw that he was recognized--he bent his head upon his breast, and
prepared for the worst. But so completely had Humbert engrossed all
eyes, that the maiden's agitation was not observed. She had penetrated
the youth's disguise, and the discovery stunned her. She was bewildered,
and could not determine what course to pursue. Humbert sounded his harp
again, and began a wild romance. Concealing her agitation, she
endeavored during the song to collect her thoughts. What embarrassed her
most, was to divine whether Gilbert's purpose in his mad visit were
hostile or merely a piece of bravado. But she resolved to take no step
without mature reflection. She was deliberating whether she could
communicate her secret to Father Omehr, without so surprising him as to
excite remark, when he rose and left the room.
The Lady Margaret was detained to hear some verses improvised to
herself, which she rewarded with a slight token; she then withdrew,
without raising her eyes to Gilbert. After she had disappeared, the
baron dismissed the guests and retained the minstrel. Seizing this
opportunity, Humbert told Gilbert he might retire until he was called,
and the youth passed out, leaving behind only a few favorite retainers
with Sir Sandrit and the minnesinger. As the door closed behind him,
Gilbert found himself in a long and dimly lighted corridor. He saw a
black figure enter at the other end--it was Father Omehr.
"It rains too hard at present to venture out," said the priest, in
passing, and he re-entered the hall to wait till the gust had exhausted
itself.
Gilbert wandered along the arched gallery without any definite aim, yet
expecting to see the Lady Margaret start from some secret niche.
Suddenly his cloak was pulled so sharply, that he grasped his sword,
which he had been prudent enough to conceal beneath the ample folds of
his gown. As he turned, he saw a woman with her finger on her lips, but
it was not the Lady Margaret: that shrivelled face and curved back
belonged to Linda. The old neif, after thus enjoining silence, made a
gesture for the youth to follow, and shuffled noiselessly before him.
Gilbert's heart was well-nigh bursting with anxiety as they strode
along. When they reached the point where the corridor branched off into
many smaller passages, Linda entered one that opened through a
sharp-arched door upon the top of a battlemented tower. The youth felt
relieved by the cold, damp wind that drove through the aperture against
his burning cheeks. As they reached a recess near the tower, Linda
stopped and leaned against a buttress with her arms crossed on her
breast. At this moment, Gilbert became aware of the presence of a third
figure, muffled from head to foot in a mantle of fur; he felt that the
Lady Margaret stood before him, but all his gallant resolutions melted
away, and he remained mute and motionless, powerless to speak or act.
Apparently unconscious of Gilbert's presence, the lady stepped within
the recess and knelt before a statue of the _Mater Dolorosa_; the youth
was awed and abashed: he began to consider his daring adventure an
unwarrantable intrusion; he meditating kissing the hem of her garment
and retiring with all his love unspoken. In the midst of his suspense
Margaret arose and confronted him; her manner was formal and dignified
without being cold or stern.
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