“Jist as the clock o’ the castel chappit the deid o’ the nicht, the clamour o’ v’ices was hard throu’ the thunner an’ the win’; an’ the warder—luikin’ doon frae the heich bartizan o’ the muckle tooer, saw i’ the fire-flauchts, a company o’ riders appro’chin’ the castel, a’ upo’ gran’ horses, he said, that sprang this gait an’ that, an shot fire frae their een. At the drawbrig they blew a horn ’at rowtit like a’ the bulls o’ Bashan, an’ whan the warder challencht them, claimt hoose-room for the nicht. Naebody had ever hard o’ the place they cam frae; it was sae far awa ’at as sane ’s a body hard the name o’ ’t, he forgot it again; but their beasts war as fresh an’ as fu’ o’ smeddum as I tell ye, an’ no a hair o’ ane o’ them turnt. There was jist a deil’s dizzen o’ them, an whaurever ye began to count them, the thirteent had aye a reid baird.
“Whan the news was taen to the markis—the yerl, I sud say— he gae orders to lat them in at ance; for whatever fau’ts he had, naither fear nor hainin’ (penuriousness) was amang them. Sae in they cam, clatterin’ ower the drawbrig, ’at gaed up an’ doon aneth them as gien it wad hae cast them.
“Richt fremt (strange) fowk they luikit whan they cam intill the coort-yaird—a’ spanglet wi’ bonny bricht stanes o’ a’ colours. They war like nae fowk ’at ever the yerl had seen, an’ he had been to Jeroozlem in ’s day, an’ had fouchten wi’ the Saracenes. But they war coorteous men an’ weel-bred—an’ maistly weel-faured tu —ilk ane luikin’ a lord’s son at the least. They had na a single servin’-man wi’ them, an’ wad alloo nane o’ the fowk aboot the place to lay han’ upo’ their beasts; an’ ilk ane as he said na, wad gie the stallion aneth him a daig wi’ ’s spurs, or a kick ’i the ribs, gien he was aff o’ ’s back, wi’ the steel tae o’ his bute; an’ the brute wad lay his lugs i’ the how o’ ’s neck, an’ turn his heid asklent, wi’ ae white ee gleyin’ oot o’ ’t, an’ lift a hin’ leg wi’ the glintin’ shue turnt back, an’ luik like Sawtan himsel’ whan he daurna.
“Weel, my lord an’ my leddy war sittin’ i’ the muckle ha’, for they cudna gang to their beds in sic a by-ous storm, whan him ’at was the chief o’ them was ushered in by the seneschal, that’s the steward, like, booin’ afore him, an’ ca’in’ him the Prence, an’ nae mair, for he cudna min’ the name o’ ’s place lang eneuch to say ’t ower again.
“An’ sae a prence he was! an’, forbye that, jist a man by himsel’ to luik at!—i’ the prime o’ life, maybe, but no freely i’ the first o’ ’t, for he had the luik as gien he had had a hard time o’ ’t, an’ had a white streak an’ a craw’s fit here and there—the liklier to please my leddy, wha lookit doon upo’ a’ body yoonger nor hersel’. He had a commandin’, maybe some owerbeirin’ luik— ane at a man micht hae birstled up at, but a leddy like my leddy wad welcome as worth bringin’ doon. He was dressed as never man had appeart in Scotlan’ afore—glorious withoot—no like the leddy i’ the Psalms—for yer ee cud licht nowhaur but there was the glitter o’ a stane, sae ’at he flashed a’ ower, ilka motion he made. He cairret a short swoord at his side—no muckle langer nor my daddy’s dirk, as gien he never foucht but at closs quarters —the whilk had three sapphires—blue stanes, they tell me—an’ muckle anes, lowin’ i’ the sheath o’ ’t, an’ a muckler ane still i’ the heft; only they war some drumly (clouded), the leddy thoucht, bein’ a jeedge o’ hingars-at-lugs (earrings) an’ sic vainities.
“That may be ’s it may, but in cam the prence, wi’ a laich boo, an’ a gran’ upstrauchtin’ again; an’ though, as I say, he was flashin’ a’ ower, his mainner was quaiet as the munelicht,—jist grace itsel’. He profest himsel’ unco’ indebtit for the shelter accordit him; an’ his een aye soucht the leddy’s, an’ his admiration o’ her was plain in ilka luik an’ gestur, an’ though his words were feow, they a’ meant mair nor they said. Afore his supper cam in, her hert was at his wull.
“They say that whan a wuman’s late o’ fa’in’ in love—ye’ll ken my lord—I ken naething aboot it—it’s the mair likly to be an oonrizzonin’ an’ ooncontrollable fancy; in sic maitters it seems wisdom comesna wi’ gray hairs: within ae hoor the leddy was enamoured o’ the stranger in a fearfu’ w’y. She poored oot his wine till him wi’ her ane han’; an’ the moment he put the glaiss till ’s lips, the win’ fell an’ the lichtnin’ devallt (ceased). She set hersel’ to put questons till him, sic as she thoucht he wad like to answer—a’ aboot himsel’ an’ what he had come throu’; an’ sic stories as he tellt! She atten’t till him as she had never dune to guest afore, an’ her father saw ’at she was sair taen wi’ the man. But he wasna a’thegither sae weel pleased, for there was somethin’ aboot him—he cudna say what—’at garred him grue (shudder). He wasna a man to hae fancies, or stan’ upo’ freits, but he cudna help the creep that gaed doon his backbane ilka time his ee encoontert that o’ the prence—it was aye sic a strange luik the prence cuist upon him—a luik as gien him an’ the yerl had been a’ready ower weel acquant, though the yerl cudna min’ ’at ever he had set ee upo’ him. A’ the time, hooever, he had a kin’ o’ suspicion ’at they bude to be auld acquantances, an’ sair he soucht to mak him oot, but the prence wad never lat a body get a glimp o’ his een ’cep’ the body he was speykin’ till—that is gien he cud help it, for the yerl did get twa or three glimps o’ them as he spak till ’s dauchter; an’ he declaret efterhin to the king’s commissioner, that a pale blue kin’ o’ a licht cam frae them, the whilk the body he was conversin’ wi’, an’ luikin’ straucht at, never saw.
“Weel, the short and the lang o’ ’t that nicht was, that they gaed a’ to their beds.
“I’ the mornin’, whan the markis—the yerl, I sud say—an’ his dochter cam doon the stair, the haill menyie (company) was awa. Never a horse was i’ the stable, but the yerl’s ain beasts —no ae hair left ahin’ to shaw that they had been there! an’ i’ the chaumers allotted to their riders, never a pair o’ sheets had been sleepit in.
“The yerl an my leddy sat doon to brak their fast—no freely i’ the same humour, the twa o’ them, as ye may weel believe. Whan they war aboot half throu’, wha sud come stridin’ in, some dour an’ ill-pleased like, but the prence himsel’! Baith yerl an’ leddy startit up: ’at they sud hae sitten doon till a meal ohn even adverteest their veesitor that sic was their purpose! They made muckle adu wi’ apologies an’ explanations, but the prence aye booed an’ booed, an’ said sae little, that they thocht him mortal angert, the whilk was a great vex to my leddy, ye may be sure. He had a withert-like luik, an’ the verra diamonds in ’s claes war douf like. A’thegither he had a brunt-oot kin’ o’ aissy (ashy) leuk.