A look of affectionate admiration from Drost Aagé was repressed by a stern glance of the king's serious eye while he laid his finger on his lips. "Music!" he called, and gave a signal to the herald. The hall soon resounded with lively hunting horns. The gravity of the guests presently disappeared, and each talked gaily with his neighbour; the king himself appeared gay and in spirits, although Aagé, indeed, remarked that it cost him a desperate effort. When the castle chaplain, at the conclusion of the feast, was about to pronounce the blessing, all the knights had become so joyous and loud-tongued, that the herald was twice compelled to remind them of the etiquette of the table. When the repast was ended the king retired in haste to his private chamber, and beckoned gravely to Aagé to follow him. When Christopher rose, he threw his napkin, as if by accident, under the table; he then went out on the hall balcony, and whistled; soon afterwards the prince's large hunting-hound came bounding through the hall, with a crumpled napkin in his mouth. The king had entered the private chamber with Aagé; he had thrown himself into a chair, and held his hand before his eyes. He remained a long time in this posture. Aagé stood in silence opposite to him, regarding him with a look of sorrowful sympathy. The king at last took his hand from his eyes, and he appeared to have wept. "Who hath dared to destroy love and confidence between brothers?" he exclaimed; "if it was you, Drost Aagé, it is the last time I call you my Drost." "I it was not, my noble liege!" answered Aagé; "_who_ it was I know not. May the Lord pardon that man among your true servants who so unwisely and rashly hath grieved you! It must have been done secretly, and without the herald's knowledge."