While the two sat there, in this silence, the storm, which had lulled a little, broke out afresh with such a flash and roar as caused even Alixe to cower back where she was. There was a fierce tumult of new rain and howling wind, and in the midst of it a sudden great clamoring at the Castle door, and the faint sound of a horse neighing outside. Alixe sprang up, and, thinking only of giving shelter to some storm-driven stranger, unbarred the door. As it flew open before the storm, a man was hurled into the room, in a furious gush of water; and when the lantern-light fell upon his haggard face, Lenore gave a cry that was half a sob, and rushed upon him, clasping his arms,— “Courtoise! Courtoise! How fares my lord?” Courtoise gazed down upon her, and did not speak. In his face was such a look of suffering as none had ever seen before upon it. “Courtoise!” she cried again, this time with a new note in her voice. “Courtoise!—my lord!—speak to me! speak—how fares my lord?” But still, though she clung to him, Courtoise made no reply. [Illustration] _CHAPTER TEN_ FROM RENNES [Illustration] Lenore’s two hands went up in an agony of entreaty. Courtoise maintained his silence. There was in the great hall a stillness that the rushing of the storm could not affect. Alixe moved back to the door, and barred it once more against the attacks of the wind. At the same time another figure appeared on the stairs. Madame Eleanore, fully dressed, her hair bound round with a metal filet, came rapidly down and joined the little group. Lenore was as one groping through a mist. She knew, vaguely, when madame came; but it meant nothing to her. Now she repeated, in the pleading tone of a child that begs for some sweet withheld from it by its elder,— “Thou bringest a packet from my lord, Courtoise? Sweet Courtoise, deliver it to my hand. My lord sendeth me a letter, is it not so?” A low cry, inarticulate, heart-broken, came from the lips of the esquire; and therewith he fell upon his knees before the young Lenore and held up his two hands as if to ward off from her the blow that he should deal. “Madame!” he said; and, for some reason, Lenore cowered before him. Then Eleanore came up to them, her face milk-white, her eyes burning; and, laying her hand upon the young man’s shoulder, she said softly: “Speak, Courtoise! Tell us what is come to thy lord. In pity for us, delay no more.” Courtoise looked up to her, and saw how deeply haggard her face seemed. Then the world grew great and black; and out of the surrounding darkness came his voice, “The Seigneur is dead. Lord Gerault is killed of a spear-thrust that he got in the lists at Rennes. They bear him homeward now.”