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tram Chablot, for he felt himself compelled forthwith to commence thinking¾ a process of mind to which he had the greatest aversion.

He handed the note to Frederique with a puzzled air, at the same time exclaiming¾

"There again, Master Frederique, there again! There are some people in the world who will never let a soldier do his duty quietly, but they will be for ever bothering his brains, which ought to have nothing to do but to recollect orders, with notes, and such absurd rubbish."

"But still, good Tristram," said Frederique, "such modes of information are not to be altogether despised. They sometimes assist greatly the soldier�s operations."

"I don�t see that, Master Frederique," growled Tristram; "it�s put me quite in a perspiration to read that letter, and, after all, what does it say?"

"Why, it warns us," answered Frederique, "that the baron and the count intend to make an attempt to escape."

"Well, what of that?" persisted Tristram, doggedly; "are we not placed here by our noble master, Sir Gaston de Beauvais, to stop anybody from escaping from the castle?¾ and, by the holy rood, we�ll do so, be it baron or seneschal¾ count or warder."

"Of that I am well assured," answered Frederique; "and there breathes not a better soldier than thyself, Tristram Chablot."

Tristram smiled grimly, and replied¾

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"I fought a good hour by the side of Sir Gaston himself, at the battle of Argant-sur-Loire, and at the end he said¾ �That will do, Tristram.�"

Tristram and Frederique were communing under the shelter of a large fir-tree, which spread its dark green arms for many yards around.

Now a slight rustling attracted their attention, and Tristram, with the coolness of a practised soldier, brought round to an available position the harquebus, or old-fashioned carbine, which hung at his back.

A crackling of dry leaves and twigs from the trees announced the immediate vicinity of some one.

"Stand!" cried Tristram.

"A friend," said a voice.

"The word?"

"Beauvais."

"Oh, it�s Bertrand," said Tristram, swinging the cumbrous weapon to his back again.

One of the soldiers now approached.

"Captain," he said, "here is another arrow, with a note."

Tristram gave a deep groan of vexation, and Frederique could not forbear a smile at the evident chagrin of the old soldier.

"Read it, Frederique¾ read it, my lad," said Tristram. "Don�t tell me anything about it, but read it yourself, an� you will."

Frederique untwisted the slip of paper from the arrow, and read as follows:¾

" �There is an exit from the vaults of Zindorf Castle somewhere in the forest. By that means will the count and baron attempt to escape. Seek it, and guard it well.

"�THE AVENGER OF BLOOD.�"

"Well," said Tristram, "what of that?"

"Why, thus much," said Frederique¾ "if we could bring ourselves to put implicit faith in our mysterious correspondent, and could thus find the place he mentions, we might concentrate our force upon the spot."

"But we won�t, though," growled Tristram; "I put no faith in notes. I never knew any good come of letters, and such like things."

"Give me a couple of men, Chablot," said Frederique, "and I will endeavour to find this place in the forest which our mysterious correspondent mentions."

"Take them," said Tristram; "but be wary, Frederique."

"Depend upon me, good Tristram," answered Frederique; "I will be a model of discretion."

Taking his bow in his hand, and thrusting half a dozen arrows into his girdle, the youthful Frederique, accompanied by two of the soldiers, plunged into the depths of the forest.

"An� it please you, Master Frederique," said one of the soldiers, "we had better separate, and mark the trees as we pass them, so we shall not search the same spot twice over."

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"Agreed," said Frederique. "I will myself proceed directly onwards; one of you take the right, and the other the left. Leave no tangled brake or well-wooded spot unsearched."

The soldiers pursued their several routes, and were soon lost to sight among the stately trees.

Frederique proceeded onwards, looking carefully right and left for any indication of the place mentioned by the unknown correspondent of the blockaders of the castle.

A deep silence reigned in the forest, unbroken, save by the light tread of the young and gallant soldier, who in after years made all Europe ring with his renown. No one would have recognised, twenty years after the period when these events in and around Zindorf Castle, were occurring, the gay slim Frederique in the celebrated Duke of Brobout, a warrior who was esteemed as the first of his age.

Picking his way, with a step light and agile as a young deer, Frederique penetrated into the deep recesses of the wood.

He left no spot unexplored which was at all likely to conceal the object of his search, for he could form no conjecture as to what appearance the exit from the vaults of Zindorf would represent.

These subterraneous passages from the castles and strongholds of the nobility were at that time very common.

The governments of those periods were generally weak, and lacked entirely the power of putting down commotions and broils between the overbearing and riotous nobility.

All who were rich enough kept, as it were, a little standing army, entirely independent of the state, and the barons declared war upon each other, and fought out their quarrels like so many petty sovereigns, without much interference from a government, which was only maintained as a small kingdom is frequently upheld by the mutual jealousies of those who could at any time crush it.

One baron, for some real or fancied wrong, would assemble his followers, and lay siege to the castle of another in the open face of day, without troubling the state with the matter, and murder, rapine, and robbery, stalked through Europe, unchecked by any one powerful authority, as at present.

Each castle thus became, as it were, a little kingdom, and so liable to change hands were these residences, that each was provided with hundreds of secret passages and concealed modes of ingress and egress, as well for the purpose of concealing property of value, as in extremity to admit of the worsted owner at the last extremity of his fortunes.

The barons took all their mutations of fortune in a very easy way, and the land took very little notice of the matter. The principal sufferers were the common people¾ the inhabitants of the surrounding villages, that were considered as much the individual property of the owner of the castle that

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frowned from a neighbouring eminence as any cattle that fattened on the pastures.

Had the Baron Zindorf contented himself by squabbling with his neighbours merely, and oppressing the villagers, he would have attracted no notice at court, but the confession of the assassin who had been employed by Count Durlack, had implicated both him and the baron in so many crimes, that several powerful families at once united to press upon the government the necessity of crushing them as criminals.

The affair then became no quarrel, but a criminal prosecution, as it were, which was kindly left to the governing power to execute, rather from a feeling that it was beneath the dignity of arms, than from any deficiency of power to do it on the part of the noble complainants.

Had not the gallant Sir Gaston de Beauvais volunteered for the expedition, in consequence of the personal interest he felt in the matter, it would have been consigned to the care of some minor authorities of the empire; and as it was, Sir Gaston took care to let it be well known that he merely went upon public grounds, as it was beneath him to arrest a criminal under ordinary circumstances.

For several hours Frederique pursued his search fruitlessly through the forest. He could see no indications of any excavation or entrance which might possibly lead to the vaults of the castle.

Rather wearied with his fruitless search, he sat down upon a mossy bank, above which towered a majestic tree.

There is a silent awful beauty in the depths of a forest, which none can have any just conception of, but those who have felt as Frederique now did, the sensation creep across his soul.

Wrapt for a time in dreary contemplation of the wild beauty of the scene by which he was surrounded, Frederique lay listening to the gentle rustling of the leaves of the trees, as they were fanned by a light breeze which had penetrated into the depths of the forest.

The air was deliciously cool and refreshing, and the murmuring of the breeze, together with the hums of many insects, invited Frederique to repose. Now and then the clear notes of a bird upon a neighbouring bough, would break the monotony of the other sounds, shrilly and joyously, and Frederique would start aside, awake for a moment, and look around him in seeming surprise; then again his eyes would gently close, and he would sink into repose.

These occasional sounds at length failed to interrupt the repose of the youth. His bow lay idly by his side. The long ringlets of his hair flashed in luminance upon the verdant bank. The birds sung above his head, and lopped in security closer and closer to him. But for the gentle heaving of the breast, the young soldier, who there lay so still and calm, might well have been thought the pure casket from which the chivalrous soul had mingled its heavenward flight.

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How long he slept Frederique knew not, but when he awoke he still thought that he was subject to the dominion of fancy, and that some dim delicious dream held him in its thrall of beauty.

He looked around him. There were the trees¾ the mossy, verdant bank on which he had given way to the soft influence which, for a time, had wrapt his senses in oblivion and repose. These glances at the localities of his position were, however, but cursory: they were like the slight retrospections which the mind indulges in to reassure itself of the unalloyed existence of some present happiness¾ a happiness which we are anxious thoroughly to assure ourselves is real and not a delusion of the imagination.

Frederique�s eyes then became fixed upon one spot¾ a spot upon which he could have fixed them for ever.

Some half dozen yards in front of the bank on which he had reposed, stood a figure which at once challenged all his most ardent admiration. Well might he have exclaimed with a poet who will be remembered when many of the monuments of man are humbled in the dust¾

Immediately before him stood a figure half bending forward in an attitude of fixed attention and surprize. It was that of a young girl, who, but for her graceful figure, which was rather above the middle standard, might, from the sweet childish beauty and innocence of her face, have been taken for one of very tender years. As it was, she could not have been above sixteen¾ that most beautiful of all periods of female existence, when the grace and innocence of the girl has just borrowed a few charms from maturer loveliness of the woman.

She was attired in a tight braided hunting suit of green, and on her head she wore a green velvet cap, from which depended a silver tassel.

Her hair, which was of a sunny auburn, hung in rich masses upon her shoulders. Her eyes were the sweet liquid blue of an Italian sky. Her slightly parted lips¾ lips that in a happy moment a Proxitelles might have sculptured¾ disclosed teeth of dazzling whiteness.

Frederique continued gazing for some moments in silence upon the fair being. He feared to speak, lest by a word he should dispel the beautiful illusion, for he still fancied that which he beheld could be no mortal form.

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The young men in those days were not scientific, and there were no institutions to make boys natural philosophers instead of useful members of society; so Frederique was content for some time to revel in the dear enjoyment of believing that it was permitted to his mortal eyes to obtain a glimpse of the rare beauty which adorns a home above the skies.

CHAPTER XXXVII.

THERE is no knowing how long Frederique might have been tempted to continue silently gazing on the fair apparition that was at each moment taking firmer possession of his soul; but he was roused to a necessity of making some effort by observing that the fair vision was slowly gliding from the spot.

"Stay," he cried¾ "yet a moment stay!"

She, however, persevered in her retreat, and Frederique having once broken the silence which had cast a spell around the scene, immediately rose and approached the beautiful girl.

This movement of his seemed to fill her with terror and dismay; and, with the speed of a young fawn, she started through the thick underwood and plunged into the mazes of the forest.

The love of adventure was second only to the love of bravery and honour in the mind of Frederique; and, accordingly, without a moment�s hesitation, he bounded after the fair fugitive.

Occasionally he caught glimpses between the trees of her cap, but these came at rarer intervals, and she was either much fleeter of foot than the young soldier, or her acquaintance with the intricacies of the forest enabled her to distance him; for, after half an hour�s hot chase, Frederique found to his mortification that he had lost all trace of the unequalled beauty whose remembrance he felt convinced would cling to him till his dying day.

The spot on which Frederique now found himself, was a kind of circle formed by the trees growing in a peculiar manner around it. Through the middle of the verdant spot, and glittering like silver among the high grass and overhanging herbage, rippled a little stream, which imparted an agreeable freshness to the air, and an appearance of animation to the scene, which added much to its natural beauty.

Frederique was heated by his fruitless chace, and he thought that a draught of pure cold water from the little stream would, just then, be the most agreeable thing in the world, next to the immediately discovering the retreat of the wood nymph, who so provokingly and so successfully eluded his hot pursuit.

He stooped to the little stream, and pushed aside the waving grass and

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rushes, which met over it, but he found it too shallow to drink from without disturbing the sandy bottom over which it took its winding course.

"I will follow the course of this rivulet," he thought, "and shall, doubtless, find some natural basin into which it pours its clear waters."

With this determination, he proceeded onwards for some distance, following closely the various windings of the little stream.

He had proceeded in this manner about a quarter of a mile, when the rivulet appeared to lose itself completely by the side of a precipitous bank, at the base of which was a cluster of shrubs and low vegetatives, which seemed to defy further progress.

Ferdinand [sic] paused in some disappointment.

"The stream cannot, surely, terminate here," he said.

He inclined his ear, and listening attentively, he could hear the low rippling of the water among the bushes.

Frederique drew his sword, and commenced an assault upon the bushes, which soon cleared him a path, and he again saw the little stream stealing quietly along among the tangled roots.

The thick mass of brushwood did not extend far, and Frederique found that there was a space bare of vegetation, and which bore somewhat the appearance of a better path round the base of the eminence.

Side by side with this path in a channel, which seemed to have been hollowed by art, meandered the little streamlet.

"Who knows," said Frederique, "what adventure is reserved for me? This path may lead to the abode of that sylvan divinity whose matchless beauty has enchanted my fancy."

He rapidly, with the hope beating at his heart, pursued the path way. The little stream as it advanced, now increased in width and depth, and Frederique kneeling by its bank raised some in his hand, and greatly refreshed himself with its delicious coolness.

With renovated strength and vigour, he continued his course.

He had not proceeded far, before the most sanguine hope arose in his breast, that he was near the object of his wishes, for he observed an excavation in the high bank, which had evidently been formed by mortal hands. He stood at the entrance for a moment, and tried with his eye to perceive the obscurity, of what appeared to be a large cavern of immense depth, and far in, of pitchy darkness.

With his sword in his hand in case of any hidden danger, he plunged then at once into the cavern.

For a considerable distance he followed the wall of the cave, which seemed to extend in a sloping direction downwards, far into the very bowels of the earth. The darkness was the most extreme that ever Frederique had ever been in. Lamp he had none, and a chilling coldness began to exercise an uncomfortable power over him the deeper he proceeded.

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"Surely," he thought, "this is no fit abode for the radiant form of youth and beauty which blessed my sight for so brief a space."

Frederique in the exciting event which had occurred to him, had quite forgotten the real object of his wandering in the forest; but now, however, it suddenly occurred to his mind, and he exclaimed,¾

"By Heavens! this must be the entrance of the vaults of Zindorf Castle. The very place. Everything bespeaks it. This strange adventure has at last had the result of accomplishing one great object; although, alas! it has fixed in my mind a never fading source of regret: for, how can I be happy if I never more behold the fair vision of the forest, who transcends in beauty all that my utmost imagination could conceive?"

As he spoke, he suddenly paused, wrapt in astonishment and delight. A voice, clear as a silver bell, and more tuneful than the rarest instrument of melody, broke upon his entranced senses.

Each word of the singer sunk into his heart never more to depart. He feared to break the charm, even by a sigh of pleasure.

After the first few words, there was a pause, and then the voice again repeated the words, which long lived in the memory of Frederique.

The voice ceased, and Frederique thought he heard a deep sigh, as if some feeling at the virgin�s heart belied the words of the melody.

Frederique listened for a time without moving from his fixed attitude of attention, in the hope that he should again be blessed by hearing those sweet sounds which his heart told him could come from no other lips than those of the lovely girl who had flown from him to this her place of refuge.

Who and what could she be? were questions that presented themselves to his mind, without meeting with any satisfactory reply. The whole affair seemed enveloped in the deepest mystery.

Some minutes elapsed in utter silence, and Frederique, with a sigh of pleasure, stirred from his position of attention.

"Oh," he said, "could I but hear that voice again! I might note the direction of the Heavenly sounds, and once more feast my eyes by gazing on that paragon of loveliness."

Onwards he went, still keeping by the wall for some distance further, but still lower and lower sunk the shelving floor, and no ray of light illumined the intense darkness which reigned around.

Suddenly a sound, as if someone had hastily drawn a hand over the strings of a guitar, struck his ears, and after a few hasty, but melodious chords, the voice again broke the solemn stillness of the place.