“Nay, the Knight’s lady would not rise all day lest she should see Orthon; but the Knight, leaping up in the morning, looked about, but could see nothing unusual.  At night, when Orthon came, he reproached him for not having shown himself, as he had promised.  ‘I have,’ replied Orthon.  ‘I say No,’ said the Knight.  ’What! you saw nothing when you leapt out of bed?’—­’Yes,’ said the Lord de Corasse, after having considered awhile, ’I saw two straws, which were turning and playing together on the floor.’  ’That was myself,’ said Orthon.

“The Knight now desired importunately that Orthon would show himself in his own true shape.  Orthon told him that it might lead to his being forced to quit his service—­but he persisted, and Orthon promised to show himself when first the Knight should leave his chamber in the morning.  Therefore, as soon as he was dressed, the Knight went to a window overlooking the court, and there he beheld nothing but a large lean sow, so poor, that she seemed nothing but skin and bone, with long hanging ears, all spotted, and a thin sharp-pointed snout.  The Lord de Corasse called to his servants to set the dogs on the ill-favoured creature, and kill it; but, as the kennel was opened, the sow vanished away, and was never seen afterwards.  Then the Lord de Corasse returned pensive to his chamber, fearing that the sow had indeed been Orthon!—­and truly Orthon never returned more to his bed-side.  Within a year, the Knight was dead!”

“Is it true, think you, Sanchez?”

“True! why, man, I have seen the Chateau de Corasse, seven leagues from Orthes!”

“And what think you was Orthon?”

“It is not for me to say; but, you see, there are some who stand fair in men’s eyes, who have strange means of gaining intelligence!  It will be a merit to weigh down a score of rifled Priests, if we can but circumvent a wizard such as this!”

“But he has brought his books!  I saw that broad-faced Englishman carry up a whole pile of them,” cried Tristan, turning pale.  “With his books he will be enough to conjure us all into apes!”

“Now or never,” said Sanchez, encouragingly.

“When all is still, I will go round and waken our comrades, while you creep forth by the hole beneath the bartizan, and warn Clisson that the secret passage is nought, but that when he sees a light in old Montfort’s turret—­”

Tristan suddenly trod on his foot, as a sign of silence, as a step descended the stairs, and Sir Eustace stood before them.

“You appear to be agreeably employed, gentlemen,” said he, glancing at the stoup of wine which was before them; “but my orders are as precise as Norman William’s.  No lights in this Castle, save my own, after eight o’clock.  To your beds, gentlemen, and a good night to you!” He was still fully armed, so that it was unsafe to attack him.  And he saw them up the spiral stairs that led from the hall, and watched them enter the narrow