Now a fearful clap of thunder rolled over the castle, whereat its walls were shaken as by an earthquake. From the vaulted dungeons beneath were heard deep hollow groans, and over the roof wailing voices of terror and lamentation. Pale and anxious, Hildiridur, Arinbiorn, and Heerdegen, rushed into the apartment, where they found Sir Otto standing with his hair dishevelled, and staring wildly at the fragments that lay around him. “That I have broken the enchanted mirror,” said Sir Otto, pointing to the torn curtain that now fluttered in the wind,--“of this I repent not; but rather triumph over what I have done. Yet still the thought, that, perhaps at the moment when by my hand it was thus shivered into pieces, the beautiful image of Bertha floated thereon; and the sight that here distracts me, since from every one of these glittering fragments her features are now mournfully smiling upon me,--this indeed is cause for regret and repentance! For God’s sake, dearest mother, tell me whether my fate even now has not been like that of the stern Sir Hugur? Have I not indeed rashly slain her who was dearer to me than all the world? And was it not with this very sword (instead of a javelin, as I had been told) that he put to death the beautiful Astrid?” Sir Otto scarcely knew what he uttered, as the voices over the roof of the castle became wilder and wilder. There was a noise, too, as if from the fluttering of invisible wings through the chamber, and Hildiridur hid her face in her long green veil. “Lose not a moment,” said she to Sir Heerdegen and the sea-monarch, “but lead your brave comrade out of these now ruinous chambers. If he be not immediately removed from hence, madness will incurably settle on his brain.” The two knights immediately obeyed her commands. They led, or rather forced by violence, the unfortunate Sir Otto through the gallery and the winding staircase, the lady still bearing them company. On arriving at the portal, they heard the thunder still rolling over the castle, and the continued voices of lamentation. The faithful war-steeds came up snorting and prancing in their terror; they mounted them immediately, and rode away from the mysterious watch-tower. Ere long they had arrived at a narrow, but pleasant valley, encircled by thickets of alder and hazel, which now lay bathed in dew and sleeping in the moonlight. Here they pulled up the reins, and tried to recover from their distraction of spirit. Their horses too began to feed peaceably on the tall grass and clover, though from a distance they still heard, borne on the night-wind, the thunder and shrilling cries from the castle.