In a Castle
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Over the yawning chimney hangs the fog. Drip--hiss--drip--hiss--fall the raindrops on the oaken log which burns, and steams,and smokes the ceiling beams. Drip--hiss--the rain never stops. The wide, state bed shivers beneath its velvet coverlet. Above, dim,in the smoke, a tarnished coronet gleams dully. Overhead hammers and chinksthe rain. Fearfully wails the wind down distant corridors, and there comesthe swish and sigh of rushes lifted off the floors. The arras blows sidewiseout from the wall, and then falls back again. It is my lady's key, confided with much nice cunning, whisperingly.He enters on a sob of wind, which gutters the candles almost to swaling.The fire flutters and drops. Drip--hiss--the rain never stops.He shuts the door. The rushes fall again to stillness along the floor.Outside, the wind goes wailing. The velvet coverlet of the wide bed is smooth and cold. Above,in the firelight, winks the coronet of tarnished gold. The knight shiversin his coat of fur, and holds out his hands to the withering flame.She is always the same, a sweet coquette. He will wait for her. How the log hisses and drips! How warm and satisfying will be her lips! It is wide and cold, the state bed; but when her head lies under the coronet,and her eyes are full and wet with love, and when she holds out her arms,and the velvet counterpane half slips from her, and alarmsher trembling modesty, how eagerly he will leap to cover her, and blot himselfbeneath the quilt, making her laugh and tremble. Is it guilt to free a lady from her palsied lord, absent and fighting,terribly abhorred? He stirs a booted heel and kicks a rolling coal. His spur clinkson the hearth. Overhead, the rain hammers and chinks. She is so pureand whole. Only because he has her soul will she resign herself to him,for where the soul has gone, the body must be given as a sign. He takes herby the divine right of the only lover. He has sworn to fight her lord,and wed her after. Should he be overborne, she will die adoring him, forlorn,shriven by her great love. Above, the coronet winks in the darkness. Drip--hiss--fall the raindrops.The arras blows out from the wall, and a door bangs in a far-off hall. The candles swale. In the gale the moat below plunges and spatters.Will the lady lose courage and not come?
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