“For three years we had now wandered about through the blooming mountains and valleys of Germany, when in your father’s heart there arose at length the ardent longing after his native land. In the German districts he no longer bore his Norwegian name of the stern Sir Hugur, but was called Sir Hugh von Trautwangen, and I also was accustomed to address him by this title, forming at the same time in my own mind delightful pictures of Trautwangen in Swabia, where I had never yet been. It was enough for me that its name was ever joined with that of my husband, who was dearer to me than all the world. I longed, therefore, in joyful anticipation, to reach the Swabian fortress, and yet have to this hour never beheld it, except long afterwards in the frightful mirror. And that fatal treasure was the cause of my never having been there in reality. “For, as we drew nearer and nearer to the castle, I was every night haunted by strange and irresistible visions, by which I was constantly warned and impelled to look into the magic mirror, and behold there the adventures past and to come of my husband, Sir Hugur. On awakening, all was confusion in my mind, and I could not clearly recall the phantoms of my sleep, but felt always a vehement desire to act according to those warnings. Yet my love towards Sir Hugur, mingled also with my terror of offending him, always made me able to resist that inclination, until one night, which we past encamped under the shelter of a great forest, my dreams became more vivid and more frightful than ever, so that I could also recall them when awake.