'Let me endure your displeasure,' said Caspar,
'if I speak not truth! Apollyon--' Here he paused. 'Speak out, thou
frightened fool,' said the baron; 'is my horse sick, or injured?' The
master of the stalls again gasped forth the word 'Apollyon!' 'Say on,'
said the baron; 'were Apollyon in presence personally, it were nothing to
shake a brave man's mind.' 'The devil,' answered the master of the horse,
'is in Apollyon's stall!' 'Fool!' exclaimed the nobleman, snatching a
torch from the wall; 'what is it that could have turned thy brain in such
silly fashion?'
"As he spoke, he crossed the courtyard of the castle, to visit the stately
range of stables, where fifty gallant steeds stood in rows, on each side
of the ample hall. At the side of each stall hung the weapons of offence
and defence of a man-at-arms, as bright as constant attention could make
them, together with the buff-coat which formed the trooper's under
garment. The baron, followed by one or two of the domestics, who had
assembled full of astonishment at the unusual alarm, hastened up betwixt
the rows of steeds. As he approached the stall of his favourite horse,
which was the uppermost of the right-hand row, the good steed neither
neighed, nor shook his head, nor stamped with his foot, nor gave the usual
signs of joy at his lord's approach; a faint moaning, as if he implored
assistance, was the only acknowledgment of the baron's presence.
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