withdrew, the old crone twisted her mouth into a smile, and
repeated the same hideous confidential wink towards the lady.
Hildegardis could not understand what attracted her in the
jests and tales of the bronze-coloured woman; but so it was,
that in her whole life she had never bestowed such attention
on the words of any one. Still the old woman went on and on,
and already the night looked dark without the windows, but the
attendants who still remained with Hildegardis had sunk into a
deep sleep, and had lighted none of the wax tapers in the
apartment.

Then, in the dusky gloom, the dark old crone rose from the low
seat on which she had been sitting, as if she now felt herself
well at ease, advanced towards Hildegardis, who sat as if
spell-bound with terror, placed herself beside her on the
purple couch, and embracing her in her long dry arms with a
hateful caress, whispered a few words in her ear. It seemed
to the lady as if she uttered the names of Froda and Edwald,
and from them came the sound of a flute, which, clear and
silvery as were its tones, seemed to lull her into a trance.
She could indeed move her limbs, but only to follow those
sounds, which, like a silver network, floated round the
hideous form of the old woman. She moved from the chamber,
and Hildegardis followed her through all her slumbering
maidens, still singing softly as she went, "Ye maidens, ye
maidens, I wander by night."

Without the castle, accompanied by squire and groom, stood the
gigantic Bohemian warrior; he laid on the shoulders of the
crone a bag of gold so heavy that she sank half whimpering,