Amelot at the same time came forward, and in a hasty and low voice, begged that the chamber might be kept quiet, and the spectators requested to retire. "My lord," he said, "ever since his illness at Gloucester, is apt to speak something wildly as he awakes from sleep, and will be displeased with me should I permit any one to be near him." Eveline accordingly caused her women and the monk to retire into the anteroom, while she herself remained standing by the door- communication which connected the apartments, and heard Damian mention her name as he turned himself painfully on his couch. "Is she safe and unharmed?" was his first question, and it was asked with an eagerness which intimated how far it preceded all other considerations. When Amelot replied in the affirmative, he sighed, as one whose bosom is relieved from some weighty load, and in a less animated voice, asked of the page where they were. "This apartment," he said, "with its furniture, are all strange to me." "My dear master," said Amelot, "you are at present too weak to ask questions and receive explanations." "Be I where I will," said Damian, as if recovering his recollection, "I am not in the place where my duty calls me. Tell my trumpets to sound to horse--to horse, and let Ralph Genvil carry my banner. To horse--to horse! we have not a moment to lose!" The wounded knight made some effort to rise, which, in his state of weakness, Amelot was easily able to frustrate. "Thou art right," he said, as he sunk back into his reclining posture--"thou art right--I am weak--but why should strength remain when honour is lost?" The unhappy young man covered his face with his hands, and groaned in agony, which seemed more that of the mind than of the body. Lady Eveline approached his bedside with unassured steps, fearing she knew not what, yet earnest to testify the interest she felt in the distresses of the sufferer. Damian looked up and beheld her, and again hid his face with his hands. "What means this strange passion, Sir Knight?" said Eveline, with a voice which, at first weak and trembling, gradually obtained steadiness and composure. "Ought it to grieve you so much, sworn as you are to the duties of chivalry, that Heaven hath twice made you its instrument to save the unfortunate Eveline Berenger?" "Oh no, no!" he exclaimed with rapidity; "since you are saved, all is well--but time presses--it is necessary I should presently depart--no-where ought I now to tarry--least of all, within this castle--Once more, Amelot, let them get to horse!" "Nay, my good lord." said the damsel, "this must not be. As your ward, I cannot let my guardian part thus suddenly--as a physician, I cannot allow my patient to destroy himself--It is impossible that you can brook the saddle."