The man himself was of middle size, athletic yet slender, with straight and regular features, sunburnt, but not swarthy; and an expression of countenance which, though reckless and bold, had in it frankness rather than ferocity, and, if defying, was not altogether unprepossessing.
Glyndon, after eyeing this figure for some moments with great attention, checked his rein, and asked the way to the "Castle of the Mountain." The man lifted his cap as he heard the question, and, approaching Glyndon, laid his hand upon the neck of the horse, and said, in a low voice, "Then you are the cavalier whom our patron the signor expected.
He bade me wait for you here, and lead you to the castle.

And indeed, signor, it might have been unfortunate if I had neglected to obey the command." The man then, drawing a little aside, called out to the bystanders in a loud voice, "Ho, ho! my friends, pay henceforth and forever all respect to this worshipful cavalier.

He is the expected guest of our blessed patron of the Castle of the Mountain.

Long life to him! May he, like his host, be safe by day and by night; on the hill and in the waste; against the dagger and the bullet,--in limb and in life! Cursed be he who touches a hair of his head, or a baioccho in his pouch.

Now and forever we will protect and honour him,--for the law or against the law; with the faith and to the death.