"See how the black smoke is driven down the chimney by the changing
gusts of wind. It is like dark clouds gathering over the sky and
dropping down upon the mountain, so that it is hard to see anything at
all. The fire goes down, too, and its flames dart and flicker in
sudden, angry flashes. Some of them are like lightning, brightening the
whole scene for an instant, and then I can see the hero and the robber
in their fight, springing and thrusting and striking at each other so
that it seems as if they must both be killed a dozen times over. Again
in the sparkle of the fire I see the gleaming of the magic sword, as
the hero whirls it above his head and strikes at his enemy. Then comes
a flare of flame that shines from the shield of the Daughter of the
God, as she throws it over the hero to protect and save him. It is all
in vain, for there comes a hot, red glow in which for an instant all
the rest is lost, and now, in the midst of it stands the Father of the
Gods himself. The daughter falls back helpless before him, and he
stretches his spear toward the hero. The magic sword falls upon the
spear and is shivered to pieces. Nothing indeed could shatter that
blade but the spear of the god who made it, but with that spear to help
him the robber springs upon his enemy and his sword is through his
heart, and he is fallen.

"The Daughter of the God has come back to where the woman lay, she has
lifted her from the ground and has laid her across her horse's saddle
as if she were dead; she leaps upon his back and they are galloping
away like the wind. The Father of the Gods has avenged the broken
promise; he has killed the hero whom he loved, and now he turns for one
moment toward the robber whom he has helped to win the fight. Only once
the god waves his hand toward him and the robber falls dead; he will
fight and kill brave men no more. But a harder task than all is to come