have a good deal of trouble about it, if he did not have a sword that
was just as keen and strong, just as sharp and firm and true as
himself. So, that he may not want for such a good blade, the Father of
the Gods has made a magic sword. No one but a god could make a sword
like this, and he has driven it up to the hilt into the great tree in
the robber's house. It is quite safe there, for the magic of it is that
nobody but the bravest, strongest, truest hero living can ever draw it
out, but for him it will be easy. There are some things besides drawing
swords out of trees which can be done easily by men who are brave and
strong and true, and which no other man can do at all.

"All this time I have been looking into the robber's house. There is a
storm outside, worse than the wind that is troubling our fire. It howls
above the house, and tears at the branches of the tree, till even the
great trunk shivers and trembles and makes the roof creak and groan.
Suddenly the door is burst open, and in, out of the storm, rushes a
man, and falls before the fire as if he were so weary that he could
move no more. Then from another room of the house comes the woman who
has promised to be the robber's wife, the girl who once lived in the
house that the robber burned. When she sees the stranger lying before
the fire, she lifts him up and brings him a big drinking-horn, and
tells him to stay and rest till the robber comes home. Then he looks at
her, and she seems to him the kindest, the sweetest, and the loveliest
woman he has ever seen.

"Soon the robber comes home, and he asks the stranger what he is and
how he came here. Then the stranger tells him all the story that I have
told you of the burning of the house where he lived with his father,
and how since then he has wandered the woods and has fought with the
wild beasts and with his enemies. As soon as he tells that, the woman