weep with fear. "Can you not hear them scraping and filing?" asked
the old mistress. "Can you not hear them hissing and grating?"

Herr Arne sat still, stroking his wife's hand. As long as he kept
silence no other dared utter a word.

But they were all assured that their old mistress had heard a
thing that was terrifying and boded ill. All felt the blood
curdling in their veins. No one at the table raised a bit of food
to his mouth, except old Herr Arne himself.

They were thinking of the old mistress, how it was she who for so
many years had had charge of the household. She had always stayed
at home and watched with wise and tender care over children and
servants, goods and cattle, so that all had prospered. Now she was
worn out and stricken in years, but still it was likely that she
and none other should feel a danger that threatened the house.

The old lady grew more and more terrified. She clasped her hands
in her helplessness and began to weep so sorely that the big tears
ran down her shrunken cheeks.

"Is it nothing to you, Arne Arneson, that I am so sore afraid?"
she complained.

Herr Arne bent his head to her and said: "I know not what it is
that affrights you."

"I am in fear of the long knives they are whetting at Branehog,"
she said.