She must resemble the Valkyrien of our heathen forefathers,
since so many mighty warriors are overcome by her."

Edwald solemnly drew forth a picture from beneath his
breastplate, and held it before him. Fixed, and as if
enchanted, Froda gazed upon it, with glowing cheeks and
sparkling eyes; the smile passed away from his countenance,
as the sunlight fades away from the meadows before the coming
darkness of the storm.

"See you not now, my noble comrade," whispered Edwald, "that
for one of us two, or perhaps for both, the joy of life is
gone?"

"Not yet," replied Froda, with a powerful effort; "but hide
your magic picture, and let us rest beneath this shade. You
must be somewhat spent with your late encounter, and a strange
weariness oppresses me with leaden weight." They dismounted
from their steeds, and stretched themselves upon the ground.

The noble Froda had no thought of sleep; but he wished to be
undisturbed whilst he wrestled strongly with himself, and
strove, if it might be, to drive from his mind that image of
fearful beauty. It seemed as if this new influence had
already become a part of his very life, and at last a restless
dreamy sleep did indeed overshadow the exhausted warrior. He
fancied himself engaged in combat with many knights, whilst
Hildegardis looked on smiling from a richly-adorned balcony;
and just as he thought he had gained the victory the bleeding
Edwald lay groaning beneath his horse's feet. Then again it