while her eyes gaze at him and are filled with joy. The hero has come--
her hero. He holds the wonderful magic sword in his hand, but only for
a moment he looks upon its long, gleaming, beautiful blade. Then he
turns to her again. They twine their arms about each other and together
they leave this hateful house. And now, of a sudden, it is as if their
two hearts were all the world, as indeed they are, to each other, for
all around them the storm was stilled; the winter is gone and it is
spring; the peaceful moonlight fills the happy woods with a soft glory;
sweet airs breathe tenderly on them and on the flowers in their path;
quiet voices speak to them out of the budding trees; and so together
they are gone into the forest.

"The Father of the Gods has done more than I have told you yet to guard
against the end which he knows must come, in spite of all that he can
do. He has fancied that his castle might be safer if he were to fill it
with strong warriors to fight for him in any need. Therefore, wherever
battles are fought he sends his nine daughters to choose the bravest of
the men who are killed and to bring them to his castle. Each of these
daughters has a horse which flies through the air faster than any bird.
When the fallen heroes have come thus to the halls of the gods, they
are brought to life and their wounds are healed by means that the gods
know how to use, and they live there, feasting day after day with other
heroes. And lest they should forget their old skill and bravery in
fighting, every day they have a battle and many of them are killed and
chopped to pieces by the others' swords, but at sunset they are all
alive and well again, and they go back together to their feast in the
halls of the gods.

"It is one of these daughters of the god, one of these choosers of
heroes, whom I see before me now. I wish that I could make you see her.