The gates of the Monastery stood wide open, the world lay
beyond, and all was ready for departure. Baron Conrad and his
men-at-arms sat foot in stirrup, the milk-white horse that had
been brought for Otto stood waiting for him beside his father's
great charger.

"Farewell, Otto," said the good old Abbot, as he stooped and
kissed the boy's cheek.

"Farewell," answered Otto, in his simple, quiet way, and it
brought a pang to the old man's heart that the child should seem
to grieve so little at the leave-taking.

"Farewell, Otto," said the brethren that stood about, "farewell,
farewell."

Then poor brother John came forward and took the boy's hand, and
looked up into his face as he sat upon his horse. "We will meet
again," said he, with his strange, vacant smile, "but maybe it
will be in Paradise, and there perhaps they will let us lie in
the father's belfry, and look down upon the angels in the court-
yard below."

"Aye," answered Otto, with an answering smile.

"Forward," cried the Baron, in a deep voice, and with a clash of
hoofs and jingle of armor they were gone, and the great wooden
gates were shut to behind them.

Down the steep winding pathway they rode, and out into the great