This auberge, a rickety old house, the roof and walls of which some masses of ivy and woodbine alone seemed to hold together, was kept by Carl Langfanger, an old Brabancione, or disbanded soldier; and it was, in fact, one of the many secret rendezvous of Count Ludwig's military outlaws. On the day after the night just described, three horsemen arrived at the auberge about noon, and within ten minutes of each other. They placed their horses in a shed behind the edifice, where a Brabancione, named Gustaf Vlierbeke, a very "ragged robin" indeed, acted as groom. They then met in an upper room, on the bare and dirty table of which wine, unasked for and unordered, was placed; and, we may mention, that their swords and daggers were _not_ required by the slipshod tapster, though such was the custom in those days in all well-ordered taverns throughout Christendom. These three personages were the exiled duke of Albany, the outlawed count of Endhoven, and that "Scottish worthy," Master James Achanna. Their greetings were more brief than courteous, and after imbibing each a long horn of wine, they drew their chairs close to the table, as if to confer confidentially. "More wine now, that we may not be interrupted hereafter," said Albany, as a preliminary. "Have we not had enough?" asked Achanna, warily. "Bah! I am not a hermit, and have no need of endeavouring to resemble old Anthony of Padua." "Der teufel! our fair ones would not esteem you the more for seeking to do so," said Ludwig. The duke smiled complacently, caressed his well-pointed moustache, and played with the tassels of his velvet cloak. "Duke," said Ludwig, "you have sworn to love this lady?" "Love her?" reiterated Albany, ponderingly. "Yes; whether she will or not." "Whom do you mean?" "Teufel! who but Murielle Douglas!" said Ludwig, with surprise. "Oh, of course, I swore it," said Albany, suddenly seeming to remember. "Ah, there are moments in life when a man swears anything to a woman so pretty," replied Ludwig, burying his red nose in his wine-pot. To elude discovery, as he knew well that the soldiers of the Dyck Graf and the halberdiers of the burgomaster were somewhat solicitous about his movements, Count Ludwig had adopted a new disguise. He was dressed like an Italian fantasin, in a jacket and pantaloons formed of long stripes of cloth of the Douglas colours, and wore on his breast a scutcheon, charged with those three stars which formed the paternal coat of the earl, for one of whose followers he wished _pro temp_. to pass. For this purpose he had smoothed over his usual ruffianly exterior, cut off his long bravo _lock_ of hair, and, to enhance the respectability of his appearance, wore a large rosary. "We have met, duke," said he; "so to the point. What have you to propose?" "Simply, that we must get rid of our troublesome lover," replied Duke Robert, mixing two kinds of wine, Burgundy and Alicant, and draining them at a draught.