Lady Chloe sniffed her kind, whinnied, and broke into a trot. She knew
sooner than I that there was life beyond the turn. We rode up to the
gate, and I dismounted and stretched myself. I tried the gate. The
lock hung loose, like a paralytic hand. Evidently those inside had
nothing to fear from those outside. I grasped an iron bar and pushed
in the gate, Chloe following knowingly at my heels. I could feel the
crumbling rust on my gloves. Chloe whinnied again, and there came an
answering whinny from somewhere in the rear of the castle. Somebody
must be inside, I reasoned.
There were lights in the left wing, but this part of the castle was
surrounded by an empty moat, damp and weedy. This was not to be
entered save by a ladder. There was a great central door, however,
which had a modern appearance. The approach was a broad graveled walk.
I tied Lady Chloe to a tree, knotted the bridle-reins above her neck to
prevent her from putting her restless feet into them, and proceeded
toward the door.
Of all the nights this was the one on which my usually lively
imagination reposed. I was hungry and tired, and I dare say my little
mare was. I wasn't looking for an adventure; I didn't want any
adventure; I wanted nothing in the world but a meal and a bed. But for
the chill of the night air--the breath of the mountain is cold at
night--I should have been perfectly willing to sleep in the open. Down
drawbridge, up portcullis!
I boldly climbed the steps and groped around for the knocker. It was
broken and useless, like the lock on the gate. And never a bell could
I find. I swore softly and became impatient. People in Barscheit did
not usually live in this slovenly fashion. What sort of place was this?
Suddenly I grew erect, every fiber in my body tense and expectant.
A voice, lifted in song! A great penetrating yet silkily mellow voice;
a soprano; heavenly, not to say ghostly, coming as it did from the
heart of this gloomy ruin of stone and iron. The jewel song from
_Faust_, too! How the voice rose, fell, soared again with intoxicating
waves of sound! What permeating sweetness! I stood there, a solitary
listener, as far as I knew, bewildered, my heart beating hard and fast.
I forgot my hunger.
Had I stumbled upon one of my dreams at last? Had Romance suddenly
relented, as a coquette sometimes relents? For a space I knew not what
to do. Then, with a shrug--I have never been accused of lacking
courage--I tried once more, by the aid of a match, to locate a bell.
There was absolutely nothing; and the beating of my riding-crop on the
panels of that huge door would have been as noisy as a feather. I
grasped the knob and turned it impatiently. Behold! the door opened
without sound, and I stepped into the hallway, which was velvet black.