"That's a grand chorus in the court-yard, Monsieur," said the baron. "Singing, snoring, groaning, are the three successive acts o' the wassailers. They would have been better engaged eating their supper. Yah! I'm gettin' sleepy, Monsieur." "Helas! helas!" ejaculated the merchant. "You prick my memory, mon noble Innerkepple. My poor mules! They have got no souper. Ah! cruel master that I am to forget the _pauvre_ animals that have got no language to tell their wants." ("So, so--the time approaches," ejaculated Kate, mentally, as she watched behind the door.) "Pardon me, _mon cher_ baron," he continued, "I vill go and give them one leetle feed, and return to you _a present_. I have got beans in my hampers." "Humanity needs nae pardon, man," replied the baron, nodding with sleep. "Awa and feed the puir creatures; but tak care an' no tramp on an' kill ony o' my brave men in yer effort to save the lives o' yer mules." "Never fear," said the other, taking from his pocket a small lantern, which he lighted. "Travellers stand in grand need of this machine," he continued. "I will return on the instant." He now left the baron to his sleep, and crept stealthily along the passage to the door leading to the court. He was followed, unseen, by Katherine, who watched every motion. He felt some difficulty in avoiding the men, who still lay on the ground; but with careful steps he reached the wall, and suddenly sprung on the parapet. "Prepare!" whispered Katherine into the ears of the prostrate retainers; "the time approaches."