‘No,’ answered Lady Hilda, ‘I am a single woman. He is the son of my sister there, the Lady Di Venoni.’ The man turned to madame, and speaking in a strange, far-away voice, and as if inspired by some strange prophetic instinct, he said: ‘That boy is the hope and prop of your race. But have a care, have a care, for a curse is upon him. Take him from this gloomy dwelling. Show him the bright and fair scenes of the earth. Teach him charity and tolerance. Strengthen his body and broaden his mind, and watch his footsteps lest he stray. His life hangs by a thread only.’ Madame was horrified. She no longer doubted that this audacious stranger was an evil thing whose death would be a benefit to all men. As she caught her son up in her arms she screamed, and when her attendants rushed in she ordered them to beat the stranger and set the dogs upon him. Folding his arms he stood like a rock, and gazed at her with scorn and defiance. But he was dragged from the apartment and roughly hurried down the great stairs to the courtyard, where a call was made to let the dogs loose, but at that instant the Lady Hilda appeared upon the scene, and interposed to save the stranger from the fury and violence of the menials. She peremptorily ordered them to release him, and when that was done she bade him depart at once, saying: ‘Your safety, your life, depends upon the speed with which you leave this castle behind you. You have spoken well and truly, and your advice is the advice of a wise man; but ignorance and tradition are powerful factors; they are difficult to counteract.’ The man bent his knee, and taking Lady Hilda’s hand, kissed it gracefully, saying: ‘I thank you, lady, and do not doubt that this generous act of yours will go unrewarded; but, I pray you let me have a word with you out of earshot of these human wolves, who seem panting to rend me to pieces.’ Unmindful of the angry looks darted at her, and the menacing attitude of the menials, she retired for a moment or two to a corner of the courtyard with the stranger, who, availing himself of the opportunity, said: ‘Have you the courage to meet me alone in the forest, in order that I may give you some information?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘Good. Meet me, then, to-night at the tower of the ruins of Rudstein, as the moon rises. No harm shall befall you, but good will come out of it.’ She pledged herself to meet him. Then she ordered the gates to be thrown open, and the man departed, followed by the jeers and taunts of the people. Lady Hilda turned furiously upon them and upbraided them for their cowardice in attacking a defenceless man. She was not a favourite with them, but she had power, and they were silenced. That night, as the moon was rising, Lady Hilda slipped out of the castle by a secret door, and hastily made her way to the ruins of Rudstein, where the stranger was waiting for her. For two hours they talked together, and, loving her nephew as she did, she anxiously inquired about his future.