sant dreams haunted his rest. He beheld his beloved walking in a garden of roses with her mother, gathering the most beautiful flowers. He thought he concealed himself behind some shrubs, so that the old lady could not get a view of him. Then he found himself at his old lodgings, where he still saw the delicate white hand of the maiden, busily arranging the flowers. He went and sat down beside her among the grass: he wished to confess how much he loved, but felt so bashful, he could find no words. Doubtless he would have gone on dreaming, on such a subject, until noon, had not the loud voice and step of the Knight, ready booted and spurred, roused him from it, about day-break. Frank heard him giving orders to the cook and butler to send up a good breakfast, and the rest of the servants to attend, to wait and help to dress him.
The dreaming lover parted very reluctantly with his dream and his hospitable bed: but his host’s voice was too loud to think of sleeping any more. He knew he should have to get up, and, summoning all his fortitude, he did so. More than a dozen hands were busied with his toilet; and when dressed, the Knight himself conducted him into a hall, where he was seated at a small but well furnished table. As time elapsed, however, our hero’s appetite began to fail. His host encouraged him to eat, in order to
