he himself had now ridden on far before them. Then they inquired, wherefore all was so silent and desolate around that fine and stately castle. “Yesterday morning,” said an old sentinel, “you would have found no cause to ask such a question; but now, indeed, there is no one above but a possessed knight, who has sold himself to the devil. Would to Heaven that we were free from such company!” Then he gave a frightful account of all that had past on the preceding day, which the rest who were present confirmed, speaking always louder than usual at the times which they bestowed most blame on the unfortunate Knight of Trautwangen. When at last they came to describe how the beautiful damsel, Bertha, was wounded, the English soldiers crossed themselves devoutly, saying, “God defend us from the sight of such a monster!” And in a little while they turned their horses’ heads, and, as if in terror, rode at a sharp trot away. “My doom is sealed, and my judgment spoken!” said Sir Otto, with the calm voice of settled despair; “I must only hasten to withdraw myself from the sight of all mortals. There may perchance be some cavern of the mountains to which I may retreat, where I may bury my armour, and for ever more remain in oblivion.” Thereafter he began to collect his accoutrements, which lay scattered about the room, and among them found his good sword, which, by the stroke of the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn’s battle-axe, had been broken in twain. “My father little thought,” said he, “that his old companion would come to such an end!” Carefully, however, he took up the glittering pieces, and tied them into a bundle with his armour; loaded with which, he set out on his way. In the antechamber, he happened to pass by the same mirror, in which he had beheld his own image at the departure of Theobaldo on the preceding morning. “Now, indeed, there is a change,” said he, as he saw the spectral figure, pale and blood-stained, which the glass presented to him, arrayed too in the mockery of festal attire, all torn and disordered. In the stable, however, his light-brown steed was cheerful as before, and neighed aloud at the approach of his master. Sir Otto shook his head mournfully, and bade him be silent; for it was no longer a fitting time for mirthful greetings. Then he bound his armour fast to the saddle, and led his horse by the reins to the gate. No one offered to assist him; for every squire and sentinel looked on him with terror. He mounted, and in a short space was lost in the deep recesses of the wood. In the hour of gladness and rejoicing, when all our wishes are fulfilled, and the sunbeams are brightest around us, then Heaven grant that we may not, like Sir Otto von Trautwangen, prove over confident or over merry! CHAPTER III. Of a meeting between Sir Otto and the Sea-monarch in the forest.