Upon leaving Victoria's house I hastened home to arm myself and take my horse. From all parts of the camp trumpets and clarions were heard blowing signals. When I entered my house I found Sampso and my wife, whom the tidings of the landing of the Franks had speedily reached, busily engaged getting my arms ready. Ellen was vigorously furbishing my steel cuirass, the polish of which was soiled by the fire that was kindled upon it the day before by order of Neroweg, the Terrible Eagle and powerful king of the Franks. "You are truly a soldier's wife," I said smiling to Ellen, seeing her provoked at not being able to restore the tarnished spot to the brilliancy of the rest of the cuirass. "The brilliancy of your husband's armor is your own greatest ornament." "If we were not so much pressed for time," Ellen answered, "we would have succeeded in furbishing off this black spot. Sampso and I have for the last hour been wondering how you managed to blacken and tarnish your armor in this manner." "They look like traces of fire," said Sampso, who was actively engaged polishing my casque with a piece of smooth skin. "Only fire can tarnish the polish of steel in that way." "You have guessed right, Sampso," I answered her laughing and taking up my sword, my battle axe and my dagger; "there was a big fire in the camp of the Franks; those hospitable folks insisted that I draw near to the brasier; the evening was cool, and I hugged the fire a little too closely." "I perceive that the announcement of battle throws you into a mirthful mood, my Schanvoch," put in my wife. "That is like you, I have long noticed it." "And the announcement of battle does not sadden you, my Ellen, because you have a stout heart." "I draw my strength from the faith of our fathers, my Schanvoch. It teaches me that we proceed to live in other worlds in the company of those whom we have loved in this," Ellen sweetly answered me while she and Sampso helped to buckle on my cuirass. "That is why I put into practice our mothers' maxim that the Gallic woman never grows pale when her brave husband departs for battle, and that she reddens with joy at his return. And if he does not return, she is proud at the knowledge that he died as a brave man, and every evening she says to herself: 'One more day has passed, one more step is taken towards those unknown worlds, where we shall meet our dear ones again.'" "Let us not talk of absence but of return," said Sampso, offering me my casque, which she had so carefully polished with her own hands that she could have seen her sweet face in the burnished steel. "You have always been so lucky in war, Schanvoch, that I feel sure you will return to us."