The knight trotted anxiously along the edge of the brook, fearful at one moment that by delay he might allow the fugitive to advance too far, and at the next that by too great rapidity he might overlook her in case she were concealing herself from him.

Meanwhile he had already penetrated tolerably far into the valley, and might soon hope to overtake the maiden, if he were on the right track.

The fear that this might not be the case made his heart beat with anxiety.

Where would the tender Bertalda tarry through the stormy night, which was so fearful in the valley, should he fail to find her?
At length he saw something white gleaming through the branches on the slope of the mountain.

He thought he recognized Bertalda's dress, and he turned his course in that direction.