“It happened not long afterwards, that the beautiful Astrid, as she was often wont to do, had gone forth alone into the neighbouring woods. She had a light glittering javelin in her hand, though she carried it more as a toy, and in sport, than with the intent of aiming it at any living creature, for she was no huntress. There it so befel, that, in a spot where the trees were twined into dense thickets, she found the mysterious knight asleep, and his frightful helmet lying beside him on the grass. She was much terrified, and yet could not help standing still and gazing upon him. So almost every one has felt, at one time or another, when he has met with some hideous object. At last she bethought herself, whether there might not be some wicked spell locked up in that head-piece, which would be from henceforth broken and dissolved, if it were no longer in the possession of its present owner. The thought was no sooner formed, than it was put into execution; for the fair Astrid had no good opinion of the stranger, and, by depriving him of his armour, was glad to think that she would render him more exposed to the blows of his enemies. As she walked homewards through the thickets, the helmet appeared to her so horrible, that, in order to hold it at as great a distance as possible from her eyes, she placed it on her javelin, and carried it over her shoulder. “Then the stern Sir Hugur came riding through the forest; and, as he saw at a distance the golden vulture’s wings through the foliage, he could not but believe that his old enemy was there lurking for him in ambuscade. So he took a javelin, and hurled it with all his force at his supposed adversary. He was too good a marksman to fail in hitting his object, and the spear went right into the heart of his beloved and beautiful Astrid. Before she died, she wept bitterly; for she was unwilling to leave this world, wherein she had yet so many pleasures; and Hugur, when he discovered his mistake, almost died of grief and repentance. The last words that they interchanged together are yet preserved in an old ballad; for it is said, that, according to our northern use and wont, they sang to each other their last farewell. At length the beautiful damsel closed her bright eyes in death; and just at that moment appeared the mysterious knight, who was now in search of his golden helmet. Sir Hugur directly attacked him with great violence; and it seemed as if the Avenger’s wonted powers had now quite forsaken him. After a short conflict, his head was almost cleft asunder, and he lay dead at the feet of his adversary. Sir Hugur then took the pale remains of his beautiful wife in his arms, and the corpse of the knight on his shoulders, and in this manner presented himself at the castle of his father-in-law, where he became his own accuser; and insisted that his life should be taken as an atonement for the death of Astrid. The old Jarl, however, having discovered how this misfortune had come