for shelter to Sir Thimo’s castle of Frankenberg. Sir Baldwin, who was at heart a cheerful fellow, perceived the windows all gaily lighted up, and heard sounds of music and dancing with infinite delight; for he hoped to join the revellers, and shortly to be as merry as themselves. Three times he blew stoutly upon the horn before any one noticed his application; and at last a gruff old warder stumped towards him, and surlily demanded his business. The knight could read on the warder’s brow that he had disturbed their merriment, and was by no means a welcome guest; yet nothing daunted, he sent in his letter to the castellan, and was instantly admitted. “Sir knight,” said the castellan, trying to look, and, what was infinitely more difficult, to speak soberly, “you see how we are doing—a marriage in my family is the occasion of this little festivity. Partake of our cheer, noble sir; eat, drink, and be merry. I can, according to my lord’s directions, entertain you to your heart’s content; only tonight, the castle being so crowded with company, I cannot find you a bed.”
“Make yourself easy, I beseech you, Mr. Castellan,” replied Sir Baldwin, quite coolly, notwithstanding this difficulty—“I do not intend to quit this roof to-night; and if you will not spare me the trouble, I will undertake the search myself, and depend upon it I will find a bed, even if I am obliged to share the bride’s.” The castellan looked angry, but said little, conscious that it was not to his interest to offend his master’s guest; he therefore suddenly recollected that two chambers in the castle
