"Ah! when the wild boar turns on thee, and there is only thy spear-head between thee and his tusks, that is pleasure! That sends the blood through one's veins, and makes the heart tingle!" Erna shuddered. "I cannot understand how it can be pleasure," she said, "to put one's life in danger, or to take the life of a beast that has never injured thee." Baron Albrecht regarded her in some surprise. "I have never thought of that," he returned frankly. "Why should one consider the beasts? They are made for our sport, are they not?" "I know you men think so," she responded with a smile; "but I cannot bear that they should suffer for my amusement." The guest still looked puzzled, and apparently was on the point of questioning further, when Lady Adelaide, evidently fearing lest the words of her niece might offend the baron or give him the idea that Erna was full of strange fancies, said quickly: "And yet thou canst sing very prettily of the hunting. Let us get nearer the fire, and thou shalt sing for us now. Beshrew me, but this storm is enough to freeze one's bones." The night had indeed darkened into a storm such as it was unusual to experience at that time of year. Outside the castle turrets they could hear the wind and rain beating, and all the wild uproar of the tempest, as it howled and raged along over the wood. They drew close about the broad hearth, where a cheerful fire had been lighted, despite the fact that the month was June; and in accordance with her aunt's wish, Erna took her lute and sang a gay little ditty in praise of hunting. "I do not mean it," she protested as she ended, and smiled in pleasant fashion, as if it were his opinion which she was anxious should be set right. "Perhaps," Father Christopher said, "thou also canst sing, Sir Baron? If so, it will delight us to hear thee." The request was warmly seconded by Lady Adelaide. Erna said nothing. "Is it thy wish that I should sing?" the stranger knight asked, turning toward her. She flushed a little as she answered in the affirmative, and then said to herself that her confusion arose from the fact that there was so seldom any need to consult her wish in such a matter that the attention seemed unusual. The knight took the lute, which in his large and strong hands looked absurdly out of place, yet which he handled with a great deal of dexterity, and after a brief prelude began in a voice of wonderful richness to sing THE KOBOLD'S SONG. The kobold's life is full of glee. For him the forest is made; For him the leaf swells on the tree, The fount wells in the glade. Well he knows every nook, Every pool where the brook Breeds him trout in the sun or the shade; Where the wild berries grow, Where the cool waters flow; Where dappled deer hide them With sleek fawns beside them; And where the wood-dove's eggs are laid.