et me escape!' whispered he to Wulf, as the rout rushed
upon him. Wulf opened the door in an instant, and he dashed through it.
As he wen, the old man held out his hand--

'Come and see me again, boy!--Me only. The old warrior will not hurt
you!'

There was a kindly tone in the voice, a kindly light in the eye, which
made Philammon promise to obey. He glanced one look back through the
gateway as he fled, and just saw a wild whirl of Goths and girls,
spinning madly round the court in the world-old Teutonic waltz; while,
high above their heads, in the uplifted arms of the mighty Amal, was
tossing the beautiful figure of Pelagia, tearing the garland from her
floating hair to pelt the dancers with its roses. And that might be his
sister! He hid his face and fled, and the gate shut out the revellers
from his eyes; and it is high time that it should shut them out from
ours also.

Some four hours more had passed. The revellers were sleeping off their
wine, and the moon shining bright and cold across the court, when Wulf
came out, carrying a heavy jar of wine, followed by Smid, a goblet in
each hand.

'Here, comrade, out into the middle, to catch a breath of night-air. Are
all the fools asleep?'

'Every mother's son of them. Ah! this is refreshing after that room.
What a pity it is that all men are not born with heads like ours!'

'Very sad indeed,' said Wulf, filling his goblet.

'What a quantity of pleasure they lose in this life! There they are,
snoring like hogs. Now, you and I are good to finish this jar, at
least.'

'And another after it, if our talk is not over by that time.'

'Why, are you going to hold a council of war?'

'That is as you take it. Now, look here, Smid. Whomsoever I cannot
trust, I suppose I may trust you, eh?'

'Well!' quoth Smid surlily, putting down his goblet, 'that is a strange
question to ask of a man who has marched, and hungered, and plundered,
and conquered, and been well beaten by your side for five-and-twenty
years, through all lands between the Wesel and Alexandria!'

'I am growing old, I suppose, and so I suspect every one. But hearken
to me, for between wine and ill-temper out it must come. You saw that
Alruna-woman?'

'Of course.'

'Well?'

'Well?'

'Why, did not you think she would make a wife for any man?'

'Well?'

'And why not for our Amal?'

'That's his concern as well as hers, and hers as well as ours.'

'She? Ought she not to think herself only too much h