At four o’clock in the afternoon Monseigneur de St. Nazaire arrived at the Castle. The body of the fallen knight had not yet come. Watchers had been placed in every tower to catch the first sight of the funeral train; but all day long they had strained their eyes in vain. At last, when the sun was near the horizon, and the golden shadows were long over the land, and the sky was haloed with a saintly glow, up, out of the cool depths of the forest, on the winding, barren road that rose toward the Castle on the cliff, came a wearily moving company of men and horses. There were six riders, who, with lances reversed, rode three on a side of a broad, heavy cart, of which the burden was covered with a great, black cloth, embroidered in one corner with the ducal arms of Brittany. The drawbridge was already lowered. In the courtyard an orderly company of henchmen and servants stood waiting to see the funeral car drive in. The Castle doors were open, and in their space stood the Bishop, with a priest at his right hand and, on his left, Courtoise, black-clothed, and white and calm. In front of the doorway the cart halted, and immediately the six gentlemen of Rennes, who had drawn Gerault from the fatal lists and had of their own desire brought him home, dismounted, and, after reverently saluting the Bishop, went to the cart and lifted out the stretcher. This, its burden still covered with the black cloth, they carried into the Castle and deposited in the chapel on the high, black bier made ready for it. Madame Eleanore, Alixe, and the demoiselles, but not Lenore, were in the chapel waiting. When the burden of the litter had been placed, and the black cloth drawn close over the dead body, Eleanore, who till this time had been upon her knees before the altar, came forward to greet the six knightly gentlemen, and all of them, as they returned her sad salute, were struck with her impenetrable dignity. Her salutation at once thanked them, greeted them, and dismissed them from the chapel; and indeed they had no thought of staying to watch this first meeting of the living with the dead; but, returning obeisance to the mother of their comrade, they left the holy room and found Courtoise outside, waiting to conduct them to the refreshment that had been prepared. So was Eleanore left alone before her dead. Behind her, near the altar, knelt the maidens, weeping while they prayed. The tall candles around the bier were yet unlighted; but through one of the high windows came a last ray of sunlight, to bar the mourning-cloth with royal gold. For a moment, clasping both hands before her, in her silent strain, Eleanore stood still before the bier. Then, moving forward, she lifted the edge of the covering, and drew it away from the head and shoulders of her son.