After some time the good Rolf returned with slow and soft steps, and
started with surprise at finding the hall deserted. The chamber
where he had been occupied in quieting and soothing the unhappy child
was in so distant a part of the castle that he had heard nothing of
the knight's hasty departure. The chaplain related to him all that
had passed, and then said, "But, my good Rolf, I much wish to ask you
concerning those strange words with which you seemed to lull poor
Sintram to rest. They sounded like sacred words, and no doubt they
are; but I could not understand them. 'I believe, and yet I cannot
believe.'"

"Reverend sir," answered Rolf, "I remember that from my earliest
years no history in the Gospels has taken such hold of me as that of
the child possessed with a devil, which the disciples were not able
to cast out; but when our Saviour came down from the mountain where
He had been transfigured, He broke the bonds wherewith the evil
spirit had held the miserable child bound. I always felt as if I
must have known and loved that boy, and been his play-fellow in his
happy days; and when I grew older, then the distress of the father on
account of his lunatic son lay heavy at my heart. It must surely
have all been a foreboding of our poor young Lord Sintram, whom I
love as if he were my own child; and now the words of the weeping
father in the Gospel often come into my mind,--'Lord, I believe; help
Thou my unbelief;' and something similar I may very likely have
repeated to-day as a chant or a prayer. Reverend father, when I
consider how one dreadful imprecation of the father has kept its
withering hold on the son, all seems dark before me; but, God be