roached nearer to the knight, and said, in a firm
yet very mild tone, "Dear lord, hitherto it rested with you alone to
relate, or not to relate it; but now that you have so strangely hinted
at the share which I have had in your son's calamity, I must positively
demand that you will repeat word for word how everything came to pass.
My honour will have it so, and that will weigh with you as much as with
me."

In stern compliance Biorn bowed his haughty head, and began the
following narration. "This time seven years I was keeping the Christmas
feast with my assembled followers. We have many venerable old customs
which have descended to us by inheritance from our great forefathers;
as, for instance, that of placing a gilded boar's head on the table, and
making thereon knightly vows of daring and wondrous deeds. Our chaplain
here, who used then frequently to visit me, was never a friend to
keeping up such traditions of the ancient heathen world. Such men as he
were not much in favour in those olden times."

"My excellent predecessors," interrupted the chaplain, "belonged more
to God than to the world, and with Him they were in favour. Thus they
converted your ancestors; and if I can in like manner be of service to
you, even your jeering will not vex me."

With looks yet darker, and a somewhat angry shudder, the knight resumed:
"Yes, yes; I know all your promises and threats of an invisible Power,
and how they are meant persuade us to part more readily with whatever of
this world's goods we may possess. Once, ah, truly, once I too had such!
Strange!--Sometimes it seems to me as though ages had passed over since
then, and as if I were alone the survivor, so fearfully has everything
changed. But now I bethink me, that the greater part of this noble
company knew me in my happiness, and have seen my wife, my lovely
Verena."

He pressed his hands on his eyes, and it seemed as though he wept. The
storm had ceased; the soft light of the moon shone through the windows,
and her beams played on his wild features. Suddenly he started up, so
that his heavy armour rattled with a fearful sound, and he cried out
in a thundering voice, "Shall I turn monk, as she has become a nun? No,
crafty priest; your webs are too thin to catch flies of my sort."

"I have nothing to do with webs," said the chaplain. "In all openness
and sincerity have I put heaven and hell before you during the space of
six years; and you gave full consent to the step