Amid a tumult of blaring trumpets, vigorous shouting, and eager choruses of welcome and greeting, the Lord of Crépuscule, with his bride on her white palfrey beside him, rode across the drawbridge of the Twilight Castle. Just inside the courtyard Gerault halted, leaped from his horse, and ran quickly to embrace his mother. When he had held her for a moment in his arms, he turned, lifted his lady from her horse, and, amid an embarrassing silence of curiosity, led the young girl up to madame. “In the name of Le Crépuscule and of its lord, I bid thee welcome to this Castle, my daughter! Good people, give greeting to your lady!” Men and maidens, serving-maids and henchmen, still gazing wide-eyed at the figure of the Seigneur’s wife, sent forth an inarticulate buzz of welcome and of admiration; and, when it had died away, Gerault took his bride by the hand, and, with Eleanore upon the other side, moved slowly across the courtyard toward the Castle doorway, where now stood the Bishop of St. Nazaire, waiting to add his welcome to the newly wed. Nor did the Bishop refrain from a little exclamation of pleasure at sight of the young wife, as she sank upon her knees before his mitre, to receive a blessing. A few moments later the whole company crowded into the brilliantly decorated hall and moved about, each selecting a desired place at the great horseshoe table ready prepared for the feast. Gerault was standing in the middle of the room, looking about him in surprise and pleasure at the preparations made to do him honor. Presently, however, he turned to his mother, who stood close at his elbow, and said, after a second’s hesitation: “I do not see Alixe, madame. Is she not here in the Castle?” Eleanore looked about her in some surprise. “Hast not seen her? Where hath she been? Ah, yes, there she stands, in yonder corner. Alixe! Hither!” “Alixe!” echoed Gerault; and strode to where she stood, half concealed, between the staircase and the chapel door, her head drooping, her eyes cast down. “Come, Alixe, and greet Lenore. She hath heard much of thee, and I would have you friends, for you are both young, and you must be good companions here together.” So he took her hand and kissed her, and led her out to where Eleanore and the young wife stood waiting. “Lenore, this is my foster-sister. La Rieuse have we called her, and she is well named. Give her greeting—” Gerault came to rather a halting pause; for the attitude of the two women nonplussed him.