“Mr. Ordener,” said he, “if I should ever have occasion to discuss the subject with Over-Bilseuth, otherwise called ‘the Babbler,’ nothing shall prevent me from maintaining that you are a wise and honorable young man. What more worthy and more glorious, in fact, _quid cithara, tuba, vel campana dignius_, than nobly to risk your life to free your country from a monster, a brigand, a demon, in whom all demons, brigands, and monsters seem to be combined? Nobody need tell me that you are moved by mercenary motives. Noble Lord Ordener yields the price of his conflict to the companion of his journey, to the old man who only guided him within a mile of Walderhog cave; for I am sure, young master, that you will allow me to await the result of your illustrious enterprise at the village of Surb, situated in the forest within a mile of Walderhog, will you not? And when your glorious victory is made known, sir, all Norway will thrill with joy like that of Vermund the Refugee, when from the summit of this same Oëlmœ cliff, which we just now passed, he saw the great fire kindled by his brother Halfdan on Munkholm tower in token of his deliverance.” At these words Ordener interrupted him eagerly. “What! is Munkholm tower visible from the top of this rock?” “Yes, sir; twelve miles to the south, between the mountains which our fathers called Frigga’s Footstools. At this hour you should be able to see the light in the tower distinctly.” “Indeed!” exclaimed Ordener, fired by the idea of another glimpse of the seat of all his happiness. “Old man, of course there is a path leading to the top of the rock, is there not?” “Yes, to be sure; a path which begins in the wood that lies just before us, and rises by a gentle slope to the bare crown of the cliff, whence it is continued by steps cut in the rock by Vermund’s companions, as far as the castle, where it ends. Those are the ruins which you see in the moonlight.” “Well, old man, you shall show me the path; we will spend the night in those ruins,--in those ruins from which Munkholm tower is visible.” “Can you really mean it, sir?” asked Benignus. “The fatigues of the day--” “Old man, I will support your steps; my footing was never more secure.” “Sir, the brambles that block the path, which has long been deserted, the fallen stones, the darkness--” “I will take the lead.” “There may be some savage beast, some unclean animal, some hideous monster--” “I did not undertake this journey to avoid monsters.” The idea of halting so near Oëlmœ was very unpleasant to Spiagudry; the thought of seeing Munkholm light, and possibly the light in Ethel’s window, enraptured and transported Ordener. “Young master,” urged Spiagudry, “give up this scheme; take my advice. I have a presentiment that it will bring us bad luck.” This plea was as nothing in the face of Ordener’s longing.