Ivanhoe: A Romance, Page 44

  CHAPTER XLII

  I found them winding of Marcello's corpse. And there was such a solemn melody, 'Twixt doleful songs, tears, and sad elegies,-- Such as old grandames, watching by the dead, Are wont to outwear the night with. --Old Play

  The mode of entering the great tower of Coningsburgh Castle is verypeculiar, and partakes of the rude simplicity of the early times inwhich it was erected. A flight of steps, so deep and narrow as to bealmost precipitous, leads up to a low portal in the south side of thetower, by which the adventurous antiquary may still, or at least coulda few years since, gain access to a small stair within the thicknessof the main wall of the tower, which leads up to the third story of thebuilding,--the two lower being dungeons or vaults, which neither receiveair nor light, save by a square hole in the third story, with whichthey seem to have communicated by a ladder. The access to the upperapartments in the tower which consist in all of four stories, is givenby stairs which are carried up through the external buttresses.

  By this difficult and complicated entrance, the good King Richard,followed by his faithful Ivanhoe, was ushered into the round apartmentwhich occupies the whole of the third story from the ground. Wilfred,by the difficulties of the ascent, gained time to muffle his face in hismantle, as it had been held expedient that he should not present himselfto his father until the King should give him the signal.

  There were assembled in this apartment, around a large oaken table,about a dozen of the most distinguished representatives of the Saxonfamilies in the adjacent counties. They were all old, or, at least,elderly men; for the younger race, to the great displeasure of theseniors, had, like Ivanhoe, broken down many of the barriers whichseparated for half a century the Norman victors from the vanquishedSaxons. The downcast and sorrowful looks of these venerable men, theirsilence and their mournful posture, formed a strong contrast to thelevity of the revellers on the outside of the castle. Their grey locksand long full beards, together with their antique tunics and loose blackmantles, suited well with the singular and rude apartment in which theywere seated, and gave the appearance of a band of ancient worshippers ofWoden, recalled to life to mourn over the decay of their national glory.

  Cedric, seated in equal rank among his countrymen, seemed yet, by commonconsent, to act as chief of the assembly. Upon the entrance of Richard(only known to him as the valorous Knight of the Fetterlock) he arosegravely, and gave him welcome by the ordinary salutation, "Waes hael",raising at the same time a goblet to his head. The King, no strangerto the customs of his English subjects, returned the greeting with theappropriate words, "Drinc hael", and partook of a cup which was handedto him by the sewer. The same courtesy was offered to Ivanhoe, whopledged his father in silence, supplying the usual speech by aninclination of his head, lest his voice should have been recognised.

  When this introductory ceremony was performed, Cedric arose, and,extending his hand to Richard, conducted him into a small and very rudechapel, which was excavated, as it were, out of one of the externalbuttresses. As there was no opening, saving a little narrow loop-hole,the place would have been nearly quite dark but for two flambeaux ortorches, which showed, by a red and smoky light, the arched roof andnaked walls, the rude altar of stone, and the crucifix of the samematerial.

  Before this altar was placed a bier, and on each side of this bierkneeled three priests, who told their beads, and muttered their prayers,with the greatest signs of external devotion. For this service asplendid "soul-scat" was paid to the convent of Saint Edmund's by themother of the deceased; and, that it might be fully deserved, the wholebrethren, saving the lame Sacristan, had transferred themselves toConingsburgh, where, while six of their number were constantly on guardin the performance of divine rites by the bier of Athelstane, the othersfailed not to take their share of the refreshments and amusements whichwent on at the castle. In maintaining this pious watch and ward, thegood monks were particularly careful not to interrupt their hymns foran instant, lest Zernebock, the ancient Saxon Apollyon, should layhis clutches on the departed Athelstane. Nor were they less careful toprevent any unhallowed layman from touching the pall, which, having beenthat used at the funeral of Saint Edmund, was liable to be desecrated,if handled by the profane. If, in truth, these attentions could be ofany use to the deceased, he had some right to expect them at the handsof the brethren of Saint Edmund's, since, besides a hundred mancusesof gold paid down as the soul-ransom, the mother of Athelstane hadannounced her intention of endowing that foundation with the better partof the lands of the deceased, in order to maintain perpetual prayers forhis soul, and that of her departed husband. Richard and Wilfred followedthe Saxon Cedric into the apartment of death, where, as their guidepointed with solemn air to the untimely bier of Athelstane, theyfollowed his example in devoutly crossing themselves, and muttering abrief prayer for the weal of the departed soul.

  This act of pious charity performed, Cedric again motioned them tofollow him, gliding over the stone floor with a noiseless tread; and,after ascending a few steps, opened with great caution the door of asmall oratory, which adjoined to the chapel. It was about eight feetsquare, hollowed, like the chapel itself, out of the thickness of thewall; and the loop-hole, which enlightened it, being to the west, andwidening considerably as it sloped inward, a beam of the setting sunfound its way into its dark recess, and showed a female of a dignifiedmien, and whose countenance retained the marked remains of majesticbeauty. Her long mourning robes and her flowing wimple of black cypress,enhanced the whiteness of her skin, and the beauty of her light-colouredand flowing tresses, which time had neither thinned nor mingled withsilver. Her countenance expressed the deepest sorrow that is consistentwith resignation. On the stone table before her stood a crucifixof ivory, beside which was laid a missal, having its pages richlyilluminated, and its boards adorned with clasps of gold, and bosses ofthe same precious metal.

  "Noble Edith," said Cedric, after having stood a moment silent, as ifto give Richard and Wilfred time to look upon the lady of the mansion,"these are worthy strangers, come to take a part in thy sorrows. Andthis, in especial, is the valiant Knight who fought so bravely for thedeliverance of him for whom we this day mourn."

  "His bravery has my thanks," returned the lady; "although it be thewill of Heaven that it should be displayed in vain. I thank, too, hiscourtesy, and that of his companion, which hath brought them hither tobehold the widow of Adeling, the mother of Athelstane, in her deep hourof sorrow and lamentation. To your care, kind kinsman, I intrust them,satisfied that they will want no hospitality which these sad walls canyet afford."

  The guests bowed deeply to the mourning parent, and withdrew from theirhospitable guide.

  Another winding stair conducted them to an apartment of the same sizewith that which they had first entered, occupying indeed the storyimmediately above. From this room, ere yet the door was opened,proceeded a low and melancholy strain of vocal music. When they entered,they found themselves in the presence of about twenty matrons andmaidens of distinguished Saxon lineage. Four maidens, Rowena leading thechoir, raised a hymn for the soul of the deceased, of which we have onlybeen able to decipher two or three stanzas:--

  Dust unto dust, To this all must; The tenant hath resign'd The faded form To waste and worm-- Corruption claims her kind.

  Through paths unknown Thy soul hath flown, To seek the realms of woe, Where fiery pain Shall purge the stain Of actions done below.

  In that sad place, By Mary's grace, Brief may thy dwelling be Till prayers and alms, And holy psalms, Shall set the captive free.

  While this dirge was sung, in a low and melancholy tone, by the femalechoristers, the others were divided into two bands, of which one wasengaged in bedecking, with such embroidery as their skill and tastecould compass, a large silken pall, destined to cover the bier ofAthelstane, while the others busied themselves in selecting, frombaskets of flowers placed before them, garlands, which they intende
d forthe same mournful purpose. The behaviour of the maidens was decorous, ifnot marked with deep affliction; but now and then a whisper or a smilecalled forth the rebuke of the severer matrons, and here and there mightbe seen a damsel more interested in endeavouring to find out how hermourning-robe became her, than in the dismal ceremony for which theywere preparing. Neither was this propensity (if we must needs confessthe truth) at all diminished by the appearance of two strange knights,which occasioned some looking up, peeping, and whispering. Rowena alone,too proud to be vain, paid her greeting to her deliverer with a gracefulcourtesy. Her demeanour was serious, but not dejected; and it may bedoubted whether thoughts of Ivanhoe, and of the uncertainty of hisfate, did not claim as great a share in her gravity as the death of herkinsman.

  To Cedric, however, who, as we have observed, was not remarkablyclear-sighted on such occasions, the sorrow of his ward seemed somuch deeper than any of the other maidens, that he deemed it properto whisper the explanation--"She was the affianced bride of the nobleAthelstane."--It may be doubted whether this communication went a farway to increase Wilfred's disposition to sympathize with the mourners ofConingsburgh.

  Having thus formally introduced the guests to the different chambers inwhich the obsequies of Athelstane were celebrated under different forms,Cedric conducted them into a small room, destined, as he informed them,for the exclusive accomodation of honourable guests, whose more slightconnexion with the deceased might render them unwilling to join thosewho were immediately effected by the unhappy event. He assured them ofevery accommodation, and was about to withdraw when the Black Knighttook his hand.

  "I crave to remind you, noble Thane," he said, "that when we lastparted, you promised, for the service I had the fortune to render you,to grant me a boon."

  "It is granted ere named, noble Knight," said Cedric; "yet, at this sadmoment---"

  "Of that also," said the King, "I have bethought me--but my time isbrief--neither does it seem to me unfit, that, when closing the grave onthe noble Athelstane, we should deposit therein certain prejudices andhasty opinions."

  "Sir Knight of the Fetterlock," said Cedric, colouring, and interruptingthe King in his turn, "I trust your boon regards yourself and no other;for in that which concerns the honour of my house, it is scarce fittingthat a stranger should mingle."

  "Nor do I wish to mingle," said the King, mildly, "unless in so far asyou will admit me to have an interest. As yet you have known me but asthe Black Knight of the Fetterlock--Know me now as Richard Plantagenet."

  "Richard of Anjou!" exclaimed Cedric, stepping backward with the utmostastonishment.

  "No, noble Cedric--Richard of England!--whose deepest interest--whosedeepest wish, is to see her sons united with each other.--And, how now,worthy Thane! hast thou no knee for thy prince?"

  "To Norman blood," said Cedric, "it hath never bended."

  "Reserve thine homage then," said the Monarch, "until I shall prove myright to it by my equal protection of Normans and English."

  "Prince," answered Cedric, "I have ever done justice to thy braveryand thy worth--Nor am I ignorant of thy claim to the crown through thydescent from Matilda, niece to Edgar Atheling, and daughter to Malcolmof Scotland. But Matilda, though of the royal Saxon blood, was not theheir to the monarchy."

  "I will not dispute my title with thee, noble Thane," said Richard,calmly; "but I will bid thee look around thee, and see where thou wiltfind another to be put into the scale against it."

  "And hast thou wandered hither, Prince, to tell me so?" said Cedric--"Toupbraid me with the ruin of my race, ere the grave has closed o'erthe last scion of Saxon royalty?"--His countenance darkened as hespoke.--"It was boldly--it was rashly done!"

  "Not so, by the holy rood!" replied the King; "it was done in the frankconfidence which one brave man may repose in another, without a shadowof danger."

  "Thou sayest well, Sir King--for King I own thou art, and wilt be,despite of my feeble opposition.--I dare not take the only mode toprevent it, though thou hast placed the strong temptation within myreach!"

  "And now to my boon," said the King, "which I ask not with one jotthe less confidence, that thou hast refused to acknowledge my lawfulsovereignty. I require of thee, as a man of thy word, on pain of beingheld faithless, man-sworn, and 'nidering', [581] to forgive and receiveto thy paternal affection the good knight, Wilfred of Ivanhoe. In thisreconciliation thou wilt own I have an interest--the happiness of myfriend, and the quelling of dissension among my faithful people."

  "And this is Wilfred!" said Cedric, pointing to his son.

  "My father!--my father!" said Ivanhoe, prostrating himself at Cedric'sfeet, "grant me thy forgiveness!"

  "Thou hast it, my son," said Cedric, raising him up. "The son ofHereward knows how to keep his word, even when it has been passed toa Norman. But let me see thee use the dress and costume of thy Englishancestry--no short cloaks, no gay bonnets, no fantastic plumage in mydecent household. He that would be the son of Cedric, must show himselfof English ancestry.--Thou art about to speak," he added, sternly, "andI guess the topic. The Lady Rowena must complete two years' mourning, asfor a betrothed husband--all our Saxon ancestors would disown us werewe to treat of a new union for her ere the grave of him she shouldhave wedded--him, so much the most worthy of her hand by birth andancestry--is yet closed. The ghost of Athelstane himself would bursthis bloody cerements and stand before us to forbid such dishonour to hismemory."

  It seemed as if Cedric's words had raised a spectre; for, scarce hadhe uttered them ere the door flew open, and Athelstane, arrayed inthe garments of the grave, stood before them, pale, haggard, and likesomething arisen from the dead! [59]

  The effect of this apparition on the persons present was utterlyappalling. Cedric started back as far as the wall of the apartment wouldpermit, and, leaning against it as one unable to support himself, gazedon the figure of his friend with eyes that seemed fixed, and a mouthwhich he appeared incapable of shutting. Ivanhoe crossed himself,repeating prayers in Saxon, Latin, or Norman-French, as they occurredto his memory, while Richard alternately said, "Benedicite", and swore,"Mort de ma vie!"

  In the meantime, a horrible noise was heard below stairs, some crying,"Secure the treacherous monks!"--others, "Down with them into thedungeon!"--others, "Pitch them from the highest battlements!"

  "In the name of God!" said Cedric, addressing what seemed the spectre ofhis departed friend, "if thou art mortal, speak!--if a departed spirit,say for what cause thou dost revisit us, or if I can do aught that canset thy spirit at repose.--Living or dead, noble Athelstane, speak toCedric!"

  "I will," said the spectre, very composedly, "when I have collectedbreath, and when you give me time--Alive, saidst thou?--I am as muchalive as he can be who has fed on bread and water for three days, whichseem three ages--Yes, bread and water, Father Cedric! By Heaven, and allsaints in it, better food hath not passed my weasand for three livelongdays, and by God's providence it is that I am now here to tell it."

  "Why, noble Athelstane," said the Black Knight, "I myself saw you struckdown by the fierce Templar towards the end of the storm at Torquilstone,and as I thought, and Wamba reported, your skull was cloven through theteeth."

  "You thought amiss, Sir Knight," said Athelstane, "and Wamba lied. Myteeth are in good order, and that my supper shall presently find--Nothanks to the Templar though, whose sword turned in his hand, so thatthe blade struck me flatlings, being averted by the handle of the goodmace with which I warded the blow; had my steel-cap been on, I had notvalued it a rush, and had dealt him such a counter-buff as would havespoilt his retreat. But as it was, down I went, stunned, indeed, butunwounded. Others, of both sides, were beaten down and slaughteredabove me, so that I never recovered my senses until I found myself ina coffin--(an open one, by good luck)--placed before the altar of thechurch of Saint Edmund's. I sneezed repeatedly--groaned--awakened andwould have arisen, when the Sacristan and Abbot, full of terror, camerunning at the noise, surprised, doubtless, and no way pleased t
o findthe man alive, whose heirs they had proposed themselves to be. I askedfor wine--they gave me some, but it must have been highly medicated, forI slept yet more deeply than before, and wakened not for many hours. Ifound my arms swathed down--my feet tied so fast that mine ankles acheat the very remembrance--the place was utterly dark--the oubliette, asI suppose, of their accursed convent, and from the close, stifled,damp smell, I conceive it is also used for a place of sepulture. I hadstrange thoughts of what had befallen me, when the door of my dungeoncreaked, and two villain monks entered. They would have persuaded me Iwas in purgatory, but I knew too well the pursy short-breathed voice ofthe Father Abbot.--Saint Jeremy! how different from that tone with whichhe used to ask me for another slice of the haunch!--the dog has feastedwith me from Christmas to Twelfth-night."

  "Have patience, noble Athelstane," said the King, "take breath--tellyour story at leisure--beshrew me but such a tale is as well worthlistening to as a romance."

  "Ay but, by the rood of Bromeholm, there was no romance in the matter!"said Athelstane.--"A barley loaf and a pitcher of water--that THEY gaveme, the niggardly traitors, whom my father, and I myself, had enriched,when their best resources were the flitches of bacon and measures ofcorn, out of which they wheedled poor serfs and bondsmen, in exchangefor their prayers--the nest of foul ungrateful vipers--barley bread andditch water to such a patron as I had been! I will smoke them out oftheir nest, though I be excommunicated!"

  "But, in the name of Our Lady, noble Athelstane," said Cedric, graspingthe hand of his friend, "how didst thou escape this imminent danger--didtheir hearts relent?"

  "Did their hearts relent!" echoed Athelstane.--"Do rocks melt with thesun? I should have been there still, had not some stir in the Convent,which I find was their procession hitherward to eat my funeral feast,when they well knew how and where I had been buried alive, summoned theswarm out of their hive. I heard them droning out their death-psalms,little judging they were sung in respect for my soul by those whowere thus famishing my body. They went, however, and I waited long forfood--no wonder--the gouty Sacristan was even too busy with his ownprovender to mind mine. At length down he came, with an unstable stepand a strong flavour of wine and spices about his person. Good cheer hadopened his heart, for he left me a nook of pasty and a flask of wine,instead of my former fare. I ate, drank, and was invigorated; when, toadd to my good luck, the Sacristan, too totty to discharge his duty ofturnkey fitly, locked the door beside the staple, so that it fell ajar.The light, the food, the wine, set my invention to work. The staple towhich my chains were fixed, was more rusted than I or the villain Abbothad supposed. Even iron could not remain without consuming in the dampsof that infernal dungeon."

  "Take breath, noble Athelstane," said Richard, "and partake of somerefreshment, ere you proceed with a tale so dreadful."

  "Partake!" quoth Athelstane; "I have been partaking five timesto-day--and yet a morsel of that savoury ham were not altogether foreignto the matter; and I pray you, fair sir, to do me reason in a cup ofwine."

  The guests, though still agape with astonishment, pledged theirresuscitated landlord, who thus proceeded in his story:--He had indeednow many more auditors than those to whom it was commenced, for Edith,having given certain necessary orders for arranging matters withinthe Castle, had followed the dead-alive up to the stranger's apartmentattended by as many of the guests, male and female, as could squeezeinto the small room, while others, crowding the staircase, caught upan erroneous edition of the story, and transmitted it still moreinaccurately to those beneath, who again sent it forth to the vulgarwithout, in a fashion totally irreconcilable to the real fact.Athelstane, however, went on as follows, with the history of hisescape:--

  "Finding myself freed from the staple, I dragged myself up stairs aswell as a man loaded with shackles, and emaciated with fasting, might;and after much groping about, I was at length directed, by the sound ofa jolly roundelay, to the apartment where the worthy Sacristan, an itso please ye, was holding a devil's mass with a huge beetle-browed,broad-shouldered brother of the grey-frock and cowl, who looked muchmore like a thief than a clergyman. I burst in upon them, and thefashion of my grave-clothes, as well as the clanking of my chains, mademe more resemble an inhabitant of the other world than of this. Bothstood aghast; but when I knocked down the Sacristan with my fist,the other fellow, his pot-companion, fetched a blow at me with a hugequarter-staff."

  "This must be our Friar Tuck, for a count's ransom," said Richard,looking at Ivanhoe.

  "He may be the devil, an he will," said Athelstane. "Fortunately hemissed the aim; and on my approaching to grapple with him, took to hisheels and ran for it. I failed not to set my own heels at liberty bymeans of the fetter-key, which hung amongst others at the sexton's belt;and I had thoughts of beating out the knave's brains with the bunch ofkeys, but gratitude for the nook of pasty and the flask of wine whichthe rascal had imparted to my captivity, came over my heart; so, with abrace of hearty kicks, I left him on the floor, pouched some baked meat,and a leathern bottle of wine, with which the two venerable brethren hadbeen regaling, went to the stable, and found in a private stall mine ownbest palfrey, which, doubtless, had been set apart for the holy FatherAbbot's particular use. Hither I came with all the speed the beast couldcompass--man and mother's son flying before me wherever I came,taking me for a spectre, the more especially as, to prevent my beingrecognised, I drew the corpse-hood over my face. I had not gainedadmittance into my own castle, had I not been supposed to be theattendant of a juggler who is making the people in the castle-yardvery merry, considering they are assembled to celebrate their lord'sfuneral--I say the sewer thought I was dressed to bear a part in thetregetour's mummery, and so I got admission, and did but disclose myselfto my mother, and eat a hasty morsel, ere I came in quest of you, mynoble friend."

  "And you have found me," said Cedric, "ready to resume our braveprojects of honour and liberty. I tell thee, never will dawn a morrow soauspicious as the next, for the deliverance of the noble Saxon race."

  "Talk not to me of delivering any one," said Athelstane; "it is well Iam delivered myself. I am more intent on punishing that villain Abbot.He shall hang on the top of this Castle of Coningsburgh, in his cope andstole; and if the stairs be too strait to admit his fat carcass, I willhave him craned up from without."

  "But, my son," said Edith, "consider his sacred office."

  "Consider my three days' fast," replied Athelstane; "I will have theirblood every one of them. Front-de-Boeuf was burnt alive for a lessmatter, for he kept a good table for his prisoners, only put too muchgarlic in his last dish of pottage. But these hypocritical, ungratefulslaves, so often the self-invited flatterers at my board, who gaveme neither pottage nor garlic, more or less, they die, by the soul ofHengist!"

  "But the Pope, my noble friend,"--said Cedric--

  "But the devil, my noble friend,"--answered Athelstane; "they die, andno more of them. Were they the best monks upon earth, the world would goon without them."

  "For shame, noble Athelstane," said Cedric; "forget such wretches in thecareer of glory which lies open before thee. Tell this Norman prince,Richard of Anjou, that, lion-hearted as he is, he shall not holdundisputed the throne of Alfred, while a male descendant of the HolyConfessor lives to dispute it."

  "How!" said Athelstane, "is this the noble King Richard?"

  "It is Richard Plantagenet himself," said Cedric; "yet I need not remindthee that, coming hither a guest of free-will, he may neither be injurednor detained prisoner--thou well knowest thy duty to him as his host."

  "Ay, by my faith!" said Athelstane; "and my duty as a subject besides,for I here tender him my allegiance, heart and hand."

  "My son," said Edith, "think on thy royal rights!"

  "Think on the freedom of England, degenerate Prince!" said Cedric.

  "Mother and friend," said Athelstane, "a truce to yourupbraidings--bread and water and a dungeon are marvellous mortifiers ofambition, and I rise from the tomb a wiser man than I descended
intoit. One half of those vain follies were puffed into mine ear by thatperfidious Abbot Wolfram, and you may now judge if he is a counsellor tobe trusted. Since these plots were set in agitation, I have had nothingbut hurried journeys, indigestions, blows and bruises, imprisonmentsand starvation; besides that they can only end in the murder of somethousands of quiet folk. I tell you, I will be king in my own domains,and nowhere else; and my first act of dominion shall be to hang theAbbot."

  "And my ward Rowena," said Cedric--"I trust you intend not to deserther?"

  "Father Cedric," said Athelstane, "be reasonable. The Lady Rowena caresnot for me--she loves the little finger of my kinsman Wilfred's glovebetter than my whole person. There she stands to avouch it--Nay, blushnot, kinswoman, there is no shame in loving a courtly knight better thana country franklin--and do not laugh neither, Rowena, for grave-clothesand a thin visage are, God knows, no matter of merriment--Nay, an thouwilt needs laugh, I will find thee a better jest--Give me thy hand, orrather lend it me, for I but ask it in the way of friendship.--Here,cousin Wilfred of Ivanhoe, in thy favour I renounce and abjure---Hey!by Saint Dunstan, our cousin Wilfred hath vanished!--Yet, unless my eyesare still dazzled with the fasting I have undergone, I saw him standthere but even now."

  All now looked around and enquired for Ivanhoe, but he had vanished.It was at length discovered that a Jew had been to seek him; and that,after very brief conference, he had called for Gurth and his armour, andhad left the castle.

  "Fair cousin," said Athelstane to Rowena, "could I think that thissudden disappearance of Ivanhoe was occasioned by other than theweightiest reason, I would myself resume--"

  But he had no sooner let go her hand, on first observing that Ivanhoehad disappeared, than Rowena, who had found her situation extremelyembarrassing, had taken the first opportunity to escape from theapartment.

  "Certainly," quoth Athelstane, "women are the least to be trusted of allanimals, monks and abbots excepted. I am an infidel, if I expected notthanks from her, and perhaps a kiss to boot--These cursed grave-clotheshave surely a spell on them, every one flies from me.--To you Iturn, noble King Richard, with the vows of allegiance, which, as aliege-subject--"

  But King Richard was gone also, and no one knew whither. At length itwas learned that he had hastened to the court-yard, summoned to hispresence the Jew who had spoken with Ivanhoe, and after a moment'sspeech with him, had called vehemently to horse, thrown himself upon asteed, compelled the Jew to mount another, and set off at a rate, which,according to Wamba, rendered the old Jew's neck not worth a penny'spurchase.

  "By my halidome!" said Athelstane, "it is certain that Zernebockhath possessed himself of my castle in my absence. I return in mygrave-clothes, a pledge restored from the very sepulchre, and every oneI speak to vanishes as soon as they hear my voice!--But it skills nottalking of it. Come, my friends--such of you as are left, follow me tothe banquet-hall, lest any more of us disappear--it is, I trust, as yettolerably furnished, as becomes the obsequies of an ancient Saxon noble;and should we tarry any longer, who knows but the devil may fly off withthe supper?"