'While he spoke this, he viewed the stranger still more attentively than
before, but observed no change in his countenance, or any symptom, that
might intimate a consciousness of evil design. He was habited like
a knight, was of a tall and majestic stature, and of dignified and
courteous manners. Still, however, he refused to communicate the subject
of his errand in any place, but that he had mentioned, and, at the same
time, gave hints concerning the secret he would disclose, that awakened
a degree of solemn curiosity in the Baron, which, at length, induced him
to consent to follow the stranger, on certain conditions.
'"Sir knight," said he, "I will attend you to the forest, and will take
with me only four of my people, who shall witness our conference."
'To this, however, the Knight objected.
'"What I would disclose," said he, with solemnity, "is to you alone.
There are only three living persons, to whom the circumstance is known;
it is of more consequence to you and your house, than I shall now
explain. In future years, you will look back to this night with
satisfaction or repentance, accordingly as you now determine. As you
would hereafter prosper--follow me; I pledge you the honour of a
knight, that no evil shall befall you;--if you are contented to dare
futurity--remain in your chamber, and I will depart as I came."
'"Sir knight," replied the Baron, "how is it possible, that my future
peace can depend upon my present determination?"
'"That is not now to be told," said the stranger, "I have explained
myself to the utmost. It is late; if you follow me it must be
quickly;--you will do well to consider the alternative."
'The Baron mused, and, as he looked upon the knight, he perceived his
countenance assume a singular solemnity.'
[Here Ludovico thought he heard a noise, and he threw a glance round the
chamber, and then held up the lamp to assist his observation; but, not
perceiving any thing to confirm his alarm, he took up the book again and
pursued the story.] 'The Baron paced his apartment, for some time, in silence, impressed by
the last words of the stranger, whose extraordinary request he feared to
grant, and feared, also, to refuse. At length, he said, "Sir knight, you
are utterly unknown to me; tell me yourself,--is it reasonable, that I
should trust myself alone with a stranger, at this hour, in a solitary
forest? Tell me, at least, who you are, and who assisted to secrete you
in this chamber." 'The knight frowned at these latter words, and was a moment silent;
then, with a countenance somewhat stern, he said