The attention of Aagé and the knights was soon directed towards two singular strangers who still remained with them at table; the one was a young man of a good figure and remarkably animated countenance; he wore a dark red, and rather thread-bare lay mantle, but the black cap which covered his tonsure, and a canon's hat which lay by his side on the table, appeared to denote him an ecclesiastic. At one time he talked Latin, at another Icelandic and Danish, with his next neighbour, whom he addressed as master, and to whom he shewed marked respect. When the young clerk spoke Danish, he frequently pronounced the words wrong. At times he became enthusiastic, and recited as well from the ancient classics as from old northern poems. His neighbour was a little, deformed man, with a hump upon his back, a thin sharp visage, and an intelligent piercing eye; his head was sunk deep between his shoulders, and hardly reached above the table, but his arms were uncommonly long and thin; he occasionally put on and took off a pair of large spectacles set in lead, and had a number of singular instruments and boxes before him on the table. He wore a bright-red mantle, bordered with fur, over a lay-brother's blue dress, and his head was adorned with a scarlet cap, trimmed with gold lace and tassels. In this showy garb, which rendered the deformity of his person still more striking, he resembled one of those foreign mountebanks and quacks, who at the great fairs were wont to exhibit feats before the mob, and vend relics, amulets, and universal remedies against all ailments; this personage however, had an air of much greater distinction and pretension. It was the same little red-cloaked man, who, with Sir Niels Brock and Sir Johan Papæ, had paid the nightly visit to Junker Christopher, at Holbek castle. In his dying hour Sir Pallé had described him to the Drost, when in his alarm, he had made him the depositary of his secrets. Aagé however had never before beheld this figure and did not remember Sir Pallé's confused description.