When the first gleams of ruddy light from the eastern hills began to stream into the cavern, Sir Arinbiorn started up from confused visions which had haunted him in sleep. Now, too, when he saw beside him a handsome youth, cheerful and smiling like the flowers in May, who stood beside him as if to watch his slumbers, he believed that this too was but a dream, and again closed his eyes. Not long afterwards, however, the same youth came to rouse him, and he heard the words--“Is it not better, my noble comrade, that we should set out early on our journey?” So, then, the sea-monarch arose, and recognised the young Knight of Trautwangen, who had now trimmed his beard and hair, and had dressed himself partly in the garments which he had worn at that fatal banquet, and which, though now in disorder, yet still shewed to advantage on the graceful contour of his person. “Good Heaven!” said Sir Arinbiorn, “how changed is now your figure from what it was but yesterday!--You have indeed acted rightly in throwing away that rough bear’s-skin, which wholly concealed the natural form which God has given unto you, and in thus arranging your hair, so that it no longer looks like the wild weeds of the forest, but may be compared to a trim, well-trained parterre.”--“If one is again to appear in the world,” said Sir Otto, “it is fitting, no doubt, that his appearance should be like that of other men. Is it your pleasure that I should now buckle on your armour? Afterwards, perchance, you will condescend to render me the same service.” Sir Otto’s words were respectfully obeyed by the sea-monarch, and in a little while both knights were fully accoutred, one in his golden, and the other in his black and silver armour, prepared for battle. Then the horses were bridled and saddled;--that of Sir Arinbiorn had rested so well on his bed of moss, that by this means, and by the healing plants which had been applied to his wounds, he was now fully recovered, though he started vehemently when the light-brown steed came trotting up at his master’s call. The latter stood still as a statue, when Sir Otto commanded him to be quiet, and allowed himself to be caparisoned without a struggle; though it was easy to perceive that he had been long unaccustomed to this duty, and that he now wondered much at what was going forward. “What a beautiful charger would that be,” said the sea-monarch, “if he were once more in the hands of a trusty squire! Even now, with his rough uncurried coat and disordered mane, he is so dignified and graceful! Methinks he is indeed well fitted to appear among a breed of horses which are natives of my northern clime, but to which I never till this day have found any one equal; they, too are, like him, of a light-brown colour; they have the same fiery temper, and will not allow themselves to be rode by any one who is not a true and valiant hero.”