"Yes--the bell will ring directly," was the answer.
The lady threw her bridle to the rider by her side and sprang from the horse before a servant could come to her assistance.
"Will you give me your linen frock?" she went on. "I will pay you for it as if it were a royal robe."
The girl laughed; she thought the lady was jesting.
"Come round and let me in," commanded the stranger.
"Dear Countess--I beg of you--what have you taken into your head?" whispered the knight.
"I am going to the consecration of this priest," said the Countess laughing. "But I must not be recognised and shall mingle with the peasant girls--do you understand?"
"But consider, I beg of you, such a proceeding is most unbecoming for you," remonstrated the knight.
"I know best what is or is not becoming for myself. You others must ride off by another way, up to where the ruins of the old fortress of Castellatz will afford you shelter against sun or rain; there you must remain concealed till we proceed on our journey."
"Could we not find shelter in the convent itself," said the knight, "as we did lately with the Duchess?"
The Countess laughed. "And do you think those strict old gentlemen would receive a wandering maid-of-honour--particularly on a day so solemn? You little know them. Do as I desire you, my Lord, and your obedience shall meet with its reward," she added with a meaning glance of such promise as brought the blood to her companion's cheeks for joy.
"Oh! what a beautiful wreath," she exclaimed, as she went to the girl who stood waiting for her. "You must give me that too." Her long train disappeared behind the wall and the little door closed behind her. There was nothing left for the knight but to console himself by doing her bidding and to ride slowly away.
"What can she want up there?" muttered he, shaking his head and carefully leading away her horse by the bridle. If the horse could have spoken it might have told him--it had carried her on its back that day when she had entered the convent-yard and had seen the young monk for the first time.--But snort and blow as it would it could say nothing and the little procession moved off in silence, behind the village, and through the dewy woods up to the lonely hill of Castellatz.