“I will not have it. Do you imagine that if I wanted your gold or your blood I should wait for your permission to gratify my desire?” The stranger made a gesture of surprise, almost of terror. “It is a present from the royal miners.” “I will not have it, I tell you. Gold is useless to me. Men will sell their soul, but they do not sell their life. That must be taken by force.” “Then I may tell the miners that the terrible Hans of Iceland accepts their leadership, but not their gold?” “I do not accept it.” These words, uttered in curt tones, seemed to strike the pretended envoy from the rebellious miners very unpleasantly. “What?” he asked. “No!” repeated the other. “You refuse to take part in an expedition which presents so many advantages?” “I am quite able to pillage farms, lay waste villages, and massacre peasants or soldiers, single-handed.” “But consider that by accepting the offer of the miners you are assured of a free pardon.” “Does this offer also come from the miners?” asked the other, with a laugh. “I will not disguise from you the fact,” replied the stranger, with an air of mystery, “that it comes from an important personage who is deeply interested in the insurrection.” “And is this important personage so sure that he will himself escape hanging?” “If you knew who he is, you would not shake your head so significantly.” “Indeed! Well, who is he?” “I may not tell you.” The small man stepped forward and clapped the stranger on the shoulder, still with the same sardonic sneer. “Shall I tell _you_?” The man wrapped in the cloak gave a start; it was a start of both fright and wounded pride. He was prepared for neither the monster’s abrupt proposal, nor for his savage familiarity. “I am only laughing at you,” added the brigand. “You little guess that I know all. This important personage is the Lord High Chancellor of Norway and Denmark; and you yourself are the Lord High Chancellor of Norway and Denmark.”