a, the Danish knight, to serve your lady ill;
for even now you openly styled me the fairest of living ladies."

"That did I," answered Froda, bending courteously, "because my fair
mistress belongs to the dead."

A slight shudder passed at these words through the assembly, and through
the heart of Hildegardis; but soon the anger of the maiden blazed forth
again, and the more because the most wonderful and excellent knight she
knew had scorned her for the sake of a dead mistress.

"I make known to all," she said, with solemn earnestness, "that
according to the just decree of my imperial uncle, this hand can never
belong to a vanquished knight, however noble and honourable he may
otherwise have proved himself. As the conqueror of this tournament,
therefore, is bound to another service, this combat concerns me not; and
I depart hence as I came, a free and unbetrothed maiden."

The duke seemed about to reply, but she turned haughtily away, and left
the bower. Suddenly a gust of wind shook the green wreaths and garlands,
and they fell untwined and rustling behind her. In this the people,
displeased with the pride of Hildegardis, thought they beheld an omen of
punishment, and with jeering words noticed it as they departed.

CHAPTER V.

The two knights had returned to their apartments in deep silence. When
they arrived there, Edwald caused himself to be disarmed, and laid every
piece of his fair shining armour together with a kind of tender care,
almost as if he were burying the corpse of a beloved friend. Then he
beckoned to his squires to leave the chamber, took his lute on his arm,
and sang the following song to its notes:--

"Bury them, bury them out of sight,
For hope and fame are fled;
And peaceful resting and quiet night
Are all now left for the dead."

"You will stir up my anger against your lute," said Froda. "You had
accustomed it to more joyful songs than this. It is too good for a
passing-bell, and you too good to toll it. I tell you yet, my young
hero, all will end gloriously."

Edwald looked a while with wonder in his face, and he answered kindly:
"Beloved Froda, if it displeases you, I will surely sing no more." But
at the same time he struck a few sad chords, which sounded infinitely
sweet and tender. Then the northern knight, much moved, clasped him in
his arms, and said: "Dear Edchen, sing and say and do whatever pleases
you; it shall ever rejoice