The old architects were
indeed great romancers, and built for the painter and the poet.
Bouchier and his companion crept about under the great meshwork of
beams-peered into all the embrasures, and beneath the carriages of the
culverins. There was a heap of planks and beams lying on the floor
between the two staircases, but no one was near it.
The result of their investigations did not tend to decrease their alarm.
Bouchier would fain have had the man keep watch in the chamber, but
neither threats nor entreaties could induce him to remain there. He
was therefore sent below, and the captain returned to the roof. He had
scarcely emerged upon the leads when the hammering recommenced
more violently than before. In vain Bouchier ordered his men to go
down. No one would stir; and superstitious fear had by this time
obtained such mastery over the captain, that he hesitated to descend
alone. To add to his vexation, the arquebusier had taken the torch with
him, so that he should have to proceed in darkness.
At length he mustered up courage to make the attempt; but he paused
between each step, peering through the gloom, and half fancying he
could discern the figure of Herne near the spot where the pile of wood
lay.
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