himself to the knight, who was seated in a brilliantly illuminated chamber.
He was a tall powerful man, who in his younger days, had performed valiant deeds as a warrior; but he had now retired to his castle, to repose from the severe duties of the field. His frank and hearty manner, and his hospitality, might have inspired confidence; but his haughty, warlike air, his harsh voice, and his impetuous gestures, created alarm at first, to those who did not know him intimately.
He advanced towards Francis, shook him by the hand with so cordial a gripe that he could hardly refrain from crying out, and thundered in his ears such a rattling oath, in the way of welcome, as would have made a deaf man hear. Francis was astounded; and betrayed in his appearance the alarm he felt.
“What is the matter with you, youngster?” said the knight, “your whole body trembles like an aspen-leaf.”
“I am wet through, and cold,” replied Francis. “If I could have some dry clothes and a warm posset—”
“Very well—you shall have them. Is there any thing else you wish? command freely, as if you were in your own house.”
Francis considered for a moment. It would all come to the same end, he thought. He could not escape the awkward leave-taking; so, as he was fairly in for it, he resolved to make himself comfortable meanwhile.
When the servants brought him dry clothes, and assisted him in undressing and dressing, he began scolding them without any ceremony, complaining that this was wrong, and the other, and finding fault with every thing. The knight manifested no displeasure at this freedom; on the contrary, he set to, and scolded them himself, for not knowing how to wait properly on a stranger, and ordered them to be quick. The table was next spread, and a splendid banquet brought in. Francis was desired to sit opposite his host, who apprized him, once for all, that it was not his custom to press his guests to eat. Francis took the hint; helped himself quickly to whatever he fancied; and ordered whatever he wanted without the least diffidence. After a while, the knight beckoned to the servants, that they should bring in the wine, and pour it out. “How do you like that wine?” inquired the knight, when Francis had put his first glass to his lips. “If it be the worst in your cellar,” replied Francis, “then it is very good of its kind; but if it be your best, it is very bad.”
“Well said,” answered the knight, and immediately ordered another flask to be brought.
“This is better than the first,” said Francis; “but I have drunk much stronger wine of this quality.”
The knight ordered a third flask to be brought, and scarcely had Francis tasted of it, when he exclaimed, “That’s capital! we’ll stick to this, if you please.”
“You are a nice judge of wine,” answered the knight.
And now they began, after the good old custom of their country in those days, to tipple away, while the knight entertained Francis with accounts of his own heroical deeds in the Turkish wars; in the recital of which he became so warmed that he sabred down bottles and glasses with the great carving-knife, till Francis often started back in terror, lest his own nose should be sliced off. Towards midnight, however, he interrupted his loquacious host.
“Excuse me, sir knight,” said he, “but I have a long journey to perform, and must proceed onwards with the first dawn of the morning; I should be glad, therefore, to have an hour or two of sleep.”
The knight gave over his stories immediately, and replied, “Your bed is ready for you: but I cannot allow you to set out so early, and fasting. You must breakfast with me first; and then I will accompany you according to the custom of my castle.”
Francis understood these words without any further explanation. However, he once more tried to convince his host that he could manage his departure so quietly, as not to disturb any one; but it was all in vain.
“An old soldier is accustomed to be always ready,” said the knight, “and you shall see I shall be awake before you are.”
He then bade Francis good night, and they both retired to rest.
Weary from his long journey, and moreover somewhat oppressed with wine, Francis slept soundly on his soft bed until it was broad daylight, and was
