again." And his eyes filled with tears as he spoke.

The good Rolf looked sorrowfully in the boy's face, saying, "Ah, my dear
young master, you are so much better than you would make people believe.
Why do you that? Your memory is so good, that you must surely recollect
your kind old friend the chaplain, who used formerly to be constantly at
the castle, and to bring you so many gifts--bright pictures of saints,
and beautiful songs?"

"I know all that very well," replied Sintram thoughtfully. "My sainted
mother was alive in those days."

"Our gracious lady is still living, God be praised," said the good Rolf.

"But she does not live for us, poor sick creatures that we are!" cried
Sintram. "And why will you not call her sainted? Surely she knows
nothing about my dreams?"

"Yes, she does know of them," said the chaplain; "and she prays to God
for you. But take heed, and restrain that wild, haughty temper of yours.
It might, indeed, come to pass that she would know nothing about your
dreams, and that would be if your soul were separated from your body;
and then the holy angels also would cease to know anything of you."

Sintram fell back on his bed as if thunderstruck; and Rolf said, with
a gentle sigh, "You should not speak so severely to my poor sick child,
reverend sir."

The boy sat up, and with tearful eyes he turned caressingly towards the
chaplain: "Let him do as he pleases, you good, tender-hearted Rolf;
he knows very well what he is about. Would you reprove him if I were
slipping down a snow-cleft, and he caught me up roughly by the hair of
my head?"

The priest looked tenderly at him, and would have spoken his holy
thoughts, when Sintram suddenly sprang off the bed and asked after his
father. As soon as he heard of the knight's departure, he would not
remain another hour in the castle; and put aside the fears of the
chaplain and the old esquire, lest a rapid journey should injure his
hardly restored health, by saying to them, "Believe me, reverend sir,
and dear old Rolf, if I were not subject to these hideous dreams, there
would not be a bolder youth in the whole world; and even as it is, I am
not so far behind the very best. Besides, till another year has passed,
my dreams are at an end."

On his somewhat imperious sign Rolf brought out the horses. The boy
threw himself boldly into the saddle, and taking a courteous leave of
the chaplain, he dashed along the frozen valley that lay between the
snow-cla