"Noble sir," he commenced, "it is now long since I left Flanders; and I should be greatly obliged by any information you could give me concerning the present state of things in our good city of Bruges. I pray you be not ofifended at my boldness."
"How could I be offended, father?" answered Adolf. "It will be a pleasure to me to serve you in any way I can. Things go ill enough, truly, in our good city of Bruges; the French are now our masters there!"
"That seems to please you but indifferently, noble sir. Nevertheless, I had understood that most of the nobles had renounced allegiance to their lawful Count, and done homage to the stranger."
"Alas! that is but too true, father. Our unfortunate Count Guy has been deserted by very many of his subjects; and still more of them there are who have tarnished the glory of their ancient name by base submission. Yet are there left some in whose veins the Flemish blood runs pure; still there are brave and loyal hearts, that have not given themselves up to the stranger."
At these words an expression of the liveliest satisfaction passed over the features of the friar. With more experience of life, Adolf might haply have perceived something both forced and feigned in the speech and countenance of his companion, betraying to a keen observer that he was playing a part which was not his own.
"Your sentiments, noble sir," he replied, "do you much honor. It is ever a true joy to me to meet with one of those generous souls who have not ceased lovingly to remember our old Count Guy in this his sad estate. God reward you for your loyalty!"
"Oh, father," cried Adolf, "would that you could look into the most secret depths of my heart, that so you might know the love I bear to our old lord—now, alas! so helpless—and to all his ancient house. I swear to you, father, that the happiest moment of my life would be that in which I might pour out for them the last drop of my blood."
The friar had good experience of men's hearts, and of their words and faces too; he could well see that there was no feigning in the young knight, and that Adolf was in very truth deeply attached to Count Guy, and devoted to his cause. After some reflection, he resumed:
"Then, if I should one day give you the opportunity of making good what you have just averred, you would not hold back; but would be ready, like a man and a true knight, to defy all danger."
"I pray you, father," cried Adolf, in a tone of supplication, "I pray you, doubt not either of my faith or of my courage. Speak now quickly; for your silence tortures me."
"Listen then—but calmly. To Guy of Flanders and to his illustrious house I am bound by the tie of countless benefits; and I have resolved, to the utmost of my power, to pay them in this their hour of need the debt of gratitude which I owe them. With this resolve I have been traveling through France; and there, sometimes by money, sometimes under color of my priestly character, have found means to visit all the noble prisoners. I have carried to the father the greeting of the son, and brought back to the son the blessing of the father; yes, and I have even sighed and wept with poor Philippa in the dungeons of the Louvre. Thus have I mitigated their sufferings, and bridged over for a moment the gulf that separates them from each other. Many a time have I spent the night in long and toilsome journeys; many a time have I been repulsed with scorn: but little recked I of all this, if thereby I could serve my lawful princes in the time of their distress. A tear of joy which my arrival might evoke, a word of thanks which might greet me on my departure, was to me a reward against which all the gold in Flanders would have weighed as nothing."
"Blessings upon you, generous priest!" cried Adolf, "and a blessed reward shall one day be yours! But tell me, I pray you, how is it with Lord Robert?"
"Let me proceed, and you shall soon hear more of him. He lies in a darksome tower, at Bourges, in the land of Berri. Worse, however, his lot might be; for he is free from chains and fetters. The old castellan, under whose charge he is, long ago fought in the Sicilian wars under the banner of the Black Lion; and he is now a friend rather than a jailer to our prince."
Adolf listened with intense eagerness; and many a time were exclamations of heartfelt joy upon his lips. He restrained himself, however; and the friar meanwhile proceeded:
"His imprisonment would thus be tolerable enough, had he only himself to think of; but he is a father, and has a father's heart, and it is that which suffers most. His daughter is left behind in Flanders; and he fears lest the spiteful and cruel Queen Joanna should persecute his child, perhaps even to death. This dreadful thought will not suffer him to rest, and his prison is become to him a very pit of despair; his soul is filled with the bitterest anguish, and each day of his life is a day of torment."
Adolf was about to give vent to his compassion; and Matilda's name was already upon his lips, when a sign from the friar prevented him from speaking.
"Weigh well now," resumed the stranger in a solemn tone, "whether you in very truth are ready to risk your life for the Lion, your liege lord. The castellan of Bourges is
