Then the guide lowered his voice and said almost in a whisper: "Be careful then not to break out into anger, because you are under might and superior force." "But also under God's will," returned Jurand. Then he looked more carefully at his guide, and observing in his face something in the nature of mercy and sympathy, said: "Honesty looks through your eyes, young man! Will you answer sincerely to what I question?" "Make haste, sir," said the guide. "Will they return the child to me?" And the youth raised his brows wonderingly. "Is your child here?" "My daughter." "That lady in the tower near the gate?" "Yes. They promised to send her away if I surrendered to them." The guide waved his hand to signify that he knew nothing, but his face expressed trouble and doubt. Then Jurand further asked: "Is it true, that Shomberg and Markward are watching her?" "Those brethren are not in the castle. Take her away though, sir, ere the nobleman Danveld regains his health." Hearing that, Jurand shivered, but there was no time to ask any more questions, because they had arrived at the hall on the upper floor in which Jurand was to face the chief Shchycienski. The youth, after having opened the door, retreated toward the stairs. The knight of Spychow entered and found himself in a roomy apartment, very dark, because the lead-framed, oval-shaped panes transmitted very little light; furthermore the day was wintry and cloudy. There was, it is true, a fire burning in a large chimney at the other end of the apartment, but the green logs produced little flame. Only after a time, when Jurand's eyes became used to the darkness, he distinguished a table behind which were knights sitting, and behind them a whole group of armed warriors and servants also armed, among whom the castle fool held a tame bear by a chain. Jurand had frequently met Danveld some time before, and afterward had seen him twice at the court of the prince of Mazowsze, as delegate, but several years had passed since that time; yet, notwithstanding the darkness, he recognized him instantly, because of his obesity, his face, and finally because he sat in the centre behind the table in an armchair, his hand being circled by wooden splints and resting upon the arm of the chair. To his right sat the old Zygfried von Löve of Insburk, an inexorable foe of the Polish race in general, and particularly of Jurand of Spychow; to his left were the younger brethren, Godfried and Rotgier. Danveld had invited them purposely, to witness his triumph over a threatening foe, and at the same time to enjoy the fruits of the treason which they had plotted together, and in the accomplishment of which they had assisted. They sat now comfortably dressed in soft dark cloth, with light swords at their sides. They were joyous and self-confident, and looking upon Jurand with that pride and extreme contempt which they always bore in their hearts toward the weaker and vanquished.