imagine; and although the fame of young Sintram, as a
bold and brave warrior, is spread far and wide, yet I can scarce believe
that he could slay such an one as my Greek ally."

He would have continued speaking, but the good Rolf came hastily back
with a few followers, the whole party so ghastly pale, that all eyes
were involuntarily fixed on them, and looked anxiously to hear what
tidings they had brought. Rolf stood still, silent and trembling.

"Take courage, my old friend!" cried Sintram. "Whatever thou mayest have
to tell is truth and light from thy faithful mouth."

"My dear master," began the old man, "be not angry, but as to burying
that strange warrior whom you slew, it is a thing impossible. Would
that we had never opened that wide hideous visor! For so horrible a
countenance grinned at us from underneath it, so distorted by death, and
with so hellish an expression, that we hardly kept our senses. We could
not by any possibility have touched him. I would rather be sent to kill
wolves and bears in the desert, and look on whilst fierce birds of prey
feast on their carcases."

All present shuddered, and were silent for a time, till Sintram nerved
himself to say, "Dear, good old man, why use such wild words as I never
till now heard thee utter? But tell me, Jarl Eric, did your ally appear
altogether so awful while he was yet alive?"

"Not as far as I know," answered Jarl Eric, looking inquiringly at his
companions, who were standing around. They said the same thing; but on
farther questioning, it appeared that neither the chieftain, nor the
knights, nor the soldiers, could say exactly what the stranger was like.

"We must then find it out for ourselves, and bury the corpse," said
Sintram; and he signed to the assembled party to follow him. All did so
except the Lord of Montfaucon, whom the whispered entreaty of Gabrielle
kept at her side. He lost nothing thereby. For though Niflung's Heath
was searched from one end to the other many times, yet the body of the
unknown warrior was no longer to be found.

CHAPTER 11

The joyful calm which came over Sintram on this day appeared to be more
than a passing gleam. If too, at times, a thought of the knight Paris
and Helen would inflame his heart with bolder and wilder wishes, it
needed but one look at his scarf and sword, and the stream of his inner
life glided again clear as a mirror, and serene within. "What can any
man wish for more than has been alre