But, during this life of repose and peace, the recollection of his lost Gabrielle had again awoke in Sir Otto’s heart; and as he concealed this grief from his companions, and even from Hildiridur, it increased by degrees every day, till with this also was joined bitter discontent and repining at the misfortunes of his parents, by which his early life had been darkened, and by which he believed that he had himself incurred distress, from which the guidance of a loving mother might have protected him. Oftentimes he now rode alone into the wide forest, far beyond the Finland boundaries, partly because he was willing to brave every danger for the sake of meeting his half-brother, Ottur, and partly driven on by his own restless thoughts; so that he oftentimes arrived very late at the moonlighted castle of Hildiridur, long after Sir Arinbiorn and Sir Heerdegen had taken their places at the round marble table. One evening, it happened that he had thus returned late from the forest, and having rode very rapidly, his discontent, instead of being wearied out as heretofore, preyed more fiercely than ever on his heart. Then, as he ascended the staircase alone, and came along and angrily through the vaulted passages into the apartment where the mirror hung, beneath its dark-red curtain, the thought came on his mind with resistless force, that he must this night destroy utterly and for ever, by one powerful blow, that enchanted glass which had been the cause of so much misfortune. “Come forth then, old comrade!” said he to his sword; “thou hast yet to compensate for the fears which thou inspired’st in my mother’s heart, when thou wert raised threateningly against her life in the forest. Now, then, fulfil my just vengeance on this delusive and fatal mirror!” In the same moment the sword gleamed in the youth’s hand; he struck with it vehemently against the purple curtain, and after a few blows, the floor glittered all around him with the wreck of the broken glass.