They penetrated into a walk, on either side of which were thick yews, up to a tank full of water, where leaves of water-lilies floated, which was surrounded by rude stone seats covered by boughs of flowering shrubs. 'That way!’ murmured the hanged man, extending his withered arm. It was an avenue, beyond the tank, vaulted over and darkened by dense and ancient trees. They went down it like shadows in the shade, the hanged man in front, Don Ruy following, very cleverly, without brushing a branch, and scarcely touching the sand with his feet. A slight thread of water purled among the lawns, and climbing roses grew up the tree-trunks and gave a sweet smell. Don Ruy’s heart began again to beat with loving hope. 'Hush!’ uttered the hanged man. Don Ruy almost stumbled over the sinister creature, who stopped short with arms outstretched like the bars of a gate. In front of them, four stone steps mounted to a terrace, where the light was full without a shadow. Crouching down they clambered up the steps, and at the end of a treeless garden full of well-fashioned flower-beds, edged by short box, they espied one side of the house beaten by the full moon. In the middle, between the breast-high windows, which were closed, a stone balcony, with pots of basil at the corners, had its glass windows opened wide. The room inside was blotted out, and made a dark gap in the bright façade bathed by the moonlight; and leaning against the balcony was a ladder with rungs of cord. Then the hanged man sharply pushed Don Ruy away from the steps into the darkness of the avenue, and there, in a pressing manner, dominating the knight, exclaimed: 'Sir! it is best that you should give me your hat and cloak now! Stay you, very still, here in the darkness of these trees, and I will go and mount that ladder and peep at that room, and, if it be as you desire, I will return here, and God make you happy.’ Don Ruy recoiled in horror at the idea of such a creature mounting to that window. He stamped his foot and cried quietly: 'No, by God.’ But the hand of the hanged man, livid in the darkness, roughly tore his hat from his head, and pulled his cloak from his arm, and now he covered himself, now he wrapped himself up, murmuring in anxious supplication: 'Don’t deny it me, sir, for if I do you a great service, I shall gain a great reward.’ And he climbed the steps--he was on the broad, illuminated terrace. Don Ruy, dazed, went up and watched, and--oh, wonderful!--that man was himself, Don Ruy, all himself, in figure and gait, as he advanced between the flower-beds and the short box, lightly and gracefully with his hand on his girdle, his face lifted smilingly towards the window, and the long scarlet plume of his hat swaying in triumph. The man went forward through the splendid moonlight. The chamber of love was there waiting, open and dark. Don Ruy gazed with flashing eyes, and trembled with amazement and anger. The man