Then the old woman said: "I think this is a true tale, my daughter, for
the witches of Amneran contrive strange things, with mists to aid them,
and with Lilith and Sclaug to abet. Yes, and this fate has fallen before
to men that were over-friendly with the dead."

"Stuff and nonsense!" said the stout lady.

"But, no, my daughter. Thus seven persons slept at Ephesus, from the time
of Decius to the time of Theodosius--"

"Still, Mother--"

"--And the proof of it is that they were called Constantine and Dionysius
and John and Malchus and Marcian and Maximian and Serapion. They were
duly canonized. You cannot deny that this thing happened without
asserting no less than seven blessed saints to have been unprincipled
liars, and that would be a very horrible heresy--"

"Yet, Mother, you know as well as I do--"

"--And thus Epimenides, another excellently spoken-of saint, slept at
Athens for fifty-seven years. Thus Charlemagne slept in the Untersberg,
and will sleep until the ravens of Miramon Lluagor have left his
mountains. Thus Rhyming Thomas in the Eildon Hills, thus Ogier in Avalon,
thus Oisin--"

The old lady bade fair to go on interminably in her gentle resolute
piping old voice, but the other interrupted.