The young knight seized the priest's hands, and kissed them with tears in his eyes.
"Oh, happy hour!" he cried; "and shall it be mine to procure this consolation for Matilda? Shall she once more behold her father, and that by my assistance? How does my heart beat with gladness! Father, you see before you the happiest man upon earth. You can not tell what delight, what unmixed happiness, your words have given me. I will fly to my prison on the wings of joy! More precious to me than gold shall be the iron bars of my dungeon. Oh, Matilda! would that the winds could speed to you this rapturous news!"
Without interrupting the knight's transport, the friar now rose from his seat; Adolf followed his example, and they walked on together slowly toward the city.
"Noble sir," said the priest again, "I can not but admire the generosity of your spirit; but though I doubt not of your courage, think you, have you well weighed the risk you are about to run? The deception once discovered, the reward of your devotedness is death."
"Is death, then, a word to frighten a Flemish knight?" answered Adolf; "no, nothing shall keep me back. Did you but know how, day and night, for these six months past, I have had no other thought but to devise means how I might serve the House of Flanders at the peril of my life, you would hardly speak to me of danger or of fear. Even now, when first you saw me sitting sorrowfully beside the path, was I earnestly praying God to show me how I might best accomplish the object nearest to my heart; and He has answered me by you His priest."
"We must depart this very night, lest our secret be discovered," rejoined the friar.
"The sooner the better; in thought I am already at Bourges with the Lion of Flanders, my lord and prince."
"But remember, sir knight, you are somewhat young for the part you have to play. It may be that in feature you are not unlike to Robert de Bethune; but the difference of age is much too great. That, however, shall be no hindrance to us; in a few moments my art shall make up the deficiency in years."
"What mean you, father? how can you make me older than I am?"
"That indeed I can not do; but I can change your face, so that the very mother who bore you should not recognize you. This I can do by means of herbs, of which I have learned to know the virtues; think not that any unlawful art hath aught to do therewith. But, noble sir, we are now hard upon the city; can you tell me whereabout resides one Adolf of Nieuwland?"
"Adolf of Nieuwland!" exclaimed the knight;
''it is with him you are now conversing. I am Adolf of Nieuwland."
Great seemed the friar's surprise; he stopped, turned full upon Adolf, and regarded him with well-feigned astonishment.
"What! you Adolf of Nieuwland! Then it is in your house that the lady Matilda de Bethune now is?"
"That honor has fallen to its lot," answered Adolf. "Your news, father, will bring it consolation ; and not before it was wanted; for Matilda's life is fast wasting away with sorrow."
"Here, then, is a letter from her father, which I commit to your charge to place in her hands; for I can well perceive that it will be to you no trifling satisfaction to be the bearer of such happy tidings."
With these words he drew from underneath his frock a parchment secured with a seal and silken cord, and handed it to the knight, who received it in silence and with deep emotion. Already he seemed to be in Matilda's presence, and to have a foretaste of the joy which her delight would give him. The friar's pace was now too slow for him; so urgent was his impatience that he always found himself a step or two in advance of his companion.
Once within the city, they soon stood before Adolf's house; and here the priest took a general but attentive survey both of it and of all the neigh boring buildings, as though fixing them in his memory for future recognition. At last he said:
"Sir Adolf, I must now bid you farewell; ere the day close I will be here again; probably it may be somewhat late; meanwhile, make all the necessary preparations for your journey."
"Will you not, then, allow me to present you to the lady? Moreover, you are wear}-; I pray you do me the honor of taking refreshment and repose beneath my roof."
"I thank you, sir; my duty as a priest calls me elsewhere; at ten o'clock I will see you again. God have you in His holy keeping!"
And with this greeting he parted from the astonished knight, and turned into the Wool street, whence he speedily vanished into Deconinck's house.
Transported with joy at his unexpected good fortune, which had come upon him like a golden dream, Adolf knocked with the greatest impatience at his door. His dear master's letter seemed to glow between his fingers; and as soon as the door was opened, he rushed past the servant and along the corridor like one mad.
"Where is the Lady Matilda?" he inquired, in a tone which demanded speedy answer:
"In the front room," replied the servant.
He hurried upstairs, and hastily opened the door of the chamber.
"Dry your tears, Lady Matilda," he cried. "No more sadness and sorrow! Light is breaking in upon our darkness!"
As Adolf entered, the young Countess was sitting disconsolately in the window, and from time to time sighing heavily. She looked at
