came to pass. My honour will have it so, and that will weigh with
you as much as with me."

In stern compliance Biorn bowed his haughty head, and began the
following narration. "This time seven years I was keeping the
Christmas feast with my assembled followers. We have many venerable
old customs which have descended to us by inheritance from our great
forefathers; as, for instance, that of placing a gilded boar's head
on the table, and making thereon knightly vows of daring and wondrous
deeds. Our chaplain here, who used then frequently to visit me, was
never a friend to keeping up such traditions of the ancient heathen
world. Such men as he were not much in favour in those olden times."

"My excellent predecessors," interrupted the chaplain, "belonged more
to God than to the world, and with Him they were in favour. Thus
they converted your ancestors; and if I can in like manner be of
service to you, even your jeering will not vex me."

With looks yet darker, and a somewhat angry shudder, the knight
resumed: "Yes, yes; I know all your promises and threats of an
invisible Power, and how they are meant persuade us to part more
readily with whatever of this world's goods we may possess. Once,
ah, truly, once I too had such! Strange!--Sometimes it seems to me
as though ages had passed over since then, and as if I were alone the
survivor, so fearfully has everything changed. But now I bethink me,
that the greater part of this noble company knew me in my happiness,
and have seen my wife, my lovely Verena."

He pressed his hands on his eyes, and it seemed as though he wept.
The storm had ceased; the soft light of the moon shone through the