"
"Well," replied Bucklaw, "but I will begin this blessed night, and have
determined not to drink above one quart of wine, unless your claret be
of extraordinary quality."
"You will find little to tempt you at Wolf's Crag," said the Master. "I
know not that I can promise you more than the shelter of my roof; all,
and more than all, our stock of wine and provisions was exhausted at the
late occasion."
"Long may it be ere provision is needed for the like purpose," answered
Bucklaw; "but you should not drink up the last flask at a dirge; there
is ill luck in that."
"There is ill luck, I think, in whatever belongs to me," said
Ravenswood. "But yonder is Wolf's Crag, and whatever it still contains
is at your service."
The roar of the sea had long announced their approach to the cliffs, on
the summit of which, like the nest of some sea-eagle, the founder of the
fortalice had perched his eyrie. The pale moon, which had hitherto been
contending with flitting clouds, now shone out, and gave them a view
of the solitary and naked tower, situated on a projecting cliff that
beetled on the German Ocean.
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