The king started: he gazed on her again, and blinked with much uneasiness and suspicion, as he looked around. "Deceive me, cheat, and it shall cost thee thy life!" he muttered, with his hand on the hilt of his dagger, and retreating a step farther towards the door. "Whom seest thou in the pit?" he again inquired, in a low tone, appearing no longer to doubt that she was in some wonderful state that enabled her to see into the Hidden, and perhaps to reveal the Future which he dreaded. She hesitated to reply, as it seemed to cost her a painful effort to look on that which presented itself to her interior sense--a sense so different from that denoted by her rigid, motionless, extended eyes. "In the pit I see robbers--murderers--ravishers!" she said, at length, in the same whispering, toneless voice: "there are kings, princes, and bishops among them. And, lo! there he sits--the murderer of his brother--on a throne of dead men's bones, with cushions of fiery serpents! He prepares a place for his brother's son! Hearest thou?--" "Woman! demon! What devilry dreamest thou of?" exclaimed the king, overcome with fearful anguish. "Answer me! Speak! Can I yet be saved? How long a respite have I?" "Ask the sword that rattles on the wall!" replied the somnambulist in a louder voice, pointing to the king's sword, but without turning her eyes towards it: "when that falls, thy time is near at hand." With a convulsive motion, the king snatched at his sword; but the slender hook that supported it gave way, and it fell, rattling, on the stone floor. "This is the sword of a king, and not that of a headsman!" exclaimed the king, proudly and vehemently, as he hastily took up the weapon, appearing, as he grasped it, to recover strength to overcome his terror. "When the heading-sword rattles on the wall, well I know it waits for blood," he muttered; "but this shall drink that of my foes. Ha! tell me, thou fearful woman!" he continued, looking anxiously around him, "who are the accursed traitors that lay wait for me? Where are they, and how many?" "If thou wilt know their number, reckon it on thy belt," replied Aasé. "Beware of the grayfriar cloaks: they conceal bold warriors. They ride, with drawn swords, through the forest. See! look!--the blind, bald monk!--he laughs, and whets his sword on his nails!" "Ha! Pallé, Pallé!--is it thee?" muttered the king, staring wildly in the direction on which the fearful dreamer's gaze seemed to be fixed.----"Seest thou more?" "I see a man, with glowing eyes, clad in iron," replied Aasé, in a fainter voice, apparently exhausted, and almost sinking to the ground: "he spurs his black steed, and his great sword is drawn! Now will he revenge the dishonour of his wife!"