loudly four times with my sword-hilt, stamping on the ground meantime.
A long, low whistle answered me from within, which I in my turn
answered: then the wicket opened, and a monk came out, holding a
lantern. He seemed yet in the prime of life, and was a tall, powerful
man. He held the lantern to my face, then smiled, and said, "The
banners hang low." I gave the countersign, "The crest is lopped off."
"Good my son," said he; "the ladders are within here. I dare not trust
any of the brethren to carry them for you, though they love not the
witch either, but are timorsome."

"No matter," I said, "I have men here." So they entered and began to
shoulder the tall ladders: the prior was very busy. "You will find
them just the right length, my son, trust me for that." He seemed
quite a jolly, pleasant man, I could not understand his nursing
furious revenge; but his face darkened strangely whenever he happened
to mention her name.

As we were starting he came and stood outside the gate, and putting
his lantern down that the light of it might not confuse his sight,
looked earnestly into the night, then said: "The wind has fallen, the
snow flakes get thinner and smaller every moment, in an hour it will
be freezing hard, and will be quite clear; everything depends'upon the
surprise being complete; stop a few minutes yet, my son." He went away
chuckling, and returned presently with two more sturdy monks carrying
something: they threw their burdens down before my feet, they
consisted of all the white albs in the abbey: "There, trust an old
man, who has seen more than one stricken fight in his carnal days; let
the men who scale the walls put these over their arms, and they will
not be seen in the least. God make your sword sharp, my son."