The castle gates were strait unbarred, And he sprang before his bleeding lord; He passed the page unheeded by, And tracked the stranger’s steps on high; Till at the door, that closed him in, Loud and dread became his din. The doors are burst, and the spectre-light Betrayeth the form of the blood-tracked knight: He was armed all over in coat of mail, But nothing did steel that night avail; He fell a torn corpse, beside that chair, Whereunto the page did late appear, By the dark glamour-art revealed, His murdered lord with lance and shield. The _murderer_ fell, and his death-wound found In the terrible fangs of the true blood-hound. * * * * * Here the voice of the minstrel ceased; and, after striking a few notes of his harp, full and deep, he rested with a look of sorrow. His eyes dwelt on the Lady Barbara—but she heeded him not; but sat with head inclined, as if still listening to his dismal tale. There followed a dread silence in the room, as of expectation of that which was to follow. Some there were, who said the ditty was already ended; yet they would fain have heard something of the pitiful history of that unhappy lady, whose portraiture was in the tower-chamber, and would have known what was the guilty motive of the knight against the Lord of Eglamore; and how it chanced he came so unwittingly to his castle. Others there were then present, who, having noticed the young Gaston de Blondeville to be ill at ease, the while the minstrel sung, and being, perchance, already moved by the merchant’s strange accusation, scrupled not to think the story touched him nearly; and that Pierre rested, not because his ditty was at an end, or from weariness; but that he doubted whether it would be well to proceed to the second part. However this may be, he needed not have stayed his strain, for Sir Gaston was no longer in the chamber. Whether Pierre knew this or not, he began once more to strike upon the harp; when, on a sudden, the king’s trumpets were heard blowing up near the stair; and anon, his Highness entered the bower, it being almost time that he should go to his rest for “all-night.” There was no more harping; Pierre tuning not up his second fit; and belike, if his Highness had been there at first, he would have bidden him to shorten his ballad by one-half. The King looked about for Sir Gaston; and, espying him not, asked wherefore he was not there; but, before any answer could be given, the knight had returned, and now approached his Highness. He was then commanded to dance a round with the Lady Barbara, and he obeyed; but many there noted the sadness on his brow, though his steps were light and gay.