A more
magnificent sight was never before presented to the startled eyes of so
unappreciative a crowd. Along the zigzag road, and among the trees,
spluttered the torches, each with a trail of sparks like the tail of a
comet. The bearers were rushing headlong down the slope, for woe to the
man who did not arrive at the water's edge sooner than his master.
The torchlight gleamed on flashing swords and glittering points of
spears, but chief sight of all was the Margrave Hermann von
Katznellenbogenstahleck, a giant in stature, mounted on a magnificent
stallion, as black as the night, and of a size that corresponded with
its prodigious rider. The Margrave's long beard and flowing hair were
red; scarlet, one may say, but perhaps that was the fiery reflection
from the torches. Servants, scullions, stablemen carried the lights; the
men-at-arms had no encumbrance but their weapons, and the business-like
way in which they lined up along the shore was a study in discipline,
and a terror to any one unused to war.
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