the werewolf. Such valor beseemeth our
young Siegfried."

Which being brought to Harold his heart flamed with anger, but he made
no answer, lest he should betray the truth he feared.

It happened so about that time that Yseult said to Harold, "Wilt thou
go with me to-morrow even to the feast in the sacred grove?"

"That can I not do," answered Harold. "I am privily summoned hence to
Normandy upon a mission of which I shall some time tell thee. And I
pray thee, on thy love for me, go not to the feast in the sacred grove
without me."

"What say'st thou?" cried Yseult. "Shall I not go to the feast of Ste.
Aelfreda? My father would be sore displeased were I not there with the
other maidens. 'T were greatest pity that I should despite his love
thus."

"But do not, I beseech thee," Harold implored. "Go not to the feast of
Ste. Aelfreda in the sacred grove! And thou would thus love me, go
not--see, thou my life, on my two knees I ask it!"

"How pale thou art," said Yseult, "and trembling."

"Go not to the sacred grove upon the morrow night," he begged.

Yseult marvelled at his acts and at his speech. Then, for the first
time, she thought him to be jealous--whereat she secretly rejoiced
(being a woman).

"Ah," quoth she, "thou dost doubt my love," but when she saw a look of
pain come on his face she added--as if she repented of the words she
had spoken--"or dost thou fear the werewolf?"

Then Harold answered, fixing his eyes on hers, "Thou hast said it; it
is the werewolf that I fear."

"Why dost thou look at me so strangely, Harold?" cried Yseult. "By the
cruel light in thine eyes one might almost take thee to be the
werewolf!"

"Come hither, sit beside me," said Harold tremblingly, "and I will tell
thee why I fear to have thee go to the feast of Ste. Aelfreda to-morrow
evening. Hear what I dreamed last night. I dreamed I was the
werewolf--do not shudder, dear love, for 't was only a dream.

"A grizzled old man stood at my bedside and strove to pluck my soul
from my bosom.

"'What would'st thou?' I cried.

"'Thy soul is mine,' he said, 'thou shalt live out my curse. Give me
thy soul--hold back thy hands--give me thy soul, I say.'

"'Thy curse shall not be upon me,' I cried. 'What have I done that thy
curse should rest upon me? Thou shalt not have my soul.'

"'For my offence shalt thou suffer, and in my curse thou shalt endure
hell--it is so decreed.'

"So spake the old man, and he strove