the castle, Biorn and Gabrielle and Folko of Montfaucon were sitting
round the great stone table, from which, since the arrival of his noble
guests, those suits of armour had been removed, formerly the established
companions of the lord of the castle, and placed all together in a heap
in the adjoining room. At this time, while the storm was beating so
furiously against doors and windows, it seemed as if the ancient armour
were also stirring in the next room, and Gabrielle several times half
rose from her seat in great alarm, fixing her eyes on the small iron
door, as though she expected to see an armed spectre issue therefrom,
bending with his mighty helmet through the low vaulted doorway.

The knight Biorn smiled grimly, and said, as if he had guessed her
thoughts: "Oh, he will never again come out thence; I have put an end to
that for ever."

His guests stared at him doubtingly; and with a strange air of
unconcern, as though the storm had awakened all the fierceness of his
soul, he began the following history:

"I was once a happy man myself; I could smile, as you do, and I could
rejoice in the morning as you do; that was before the hypocritical
chaplain had so bewildered the wise mind of my lovely wife with his
canting talk, that she went into a cloister, and left me alone with our
wild boy. That was not fair usage from the fair Verena. Well, so it was,
that in the first days of her dawning beauty, before I knew her, many
knights sought her hand, amongst whom was Sir Weigand the Slender;
and towards him the gentle maiden showed herself the most favourably
inclined. Her parents were well aware that Weigand's rank and station
were little below their own, and that his early fame as a warrior
without reproach stood high; so that before long Verena and he were
accounted as affianced. It happened one day that they were walking
together in the orchard, when a shepherd was driving his flock up the
mountain beyond. The maiden saw a little snow-white lamb frolicking
gaily, and longed for it. Weigand vaults over the railings, overtakes
the shepherd, and offers him two gold bracelets for the lamb. But the
shepherd will not part with it, and scarcely listens to the knight,
going quietly the while up the mountain-side, with Weigand close upon
him. At last Weigand loses patience. He threatens; and the shepherd,
sturdy and proud like all of his race in our northern land, threatens
in return. Suddenly Weigand's sword resounds upon