remembered all the strange stories of ghosts and demons, and shadowy phantoms, by which Sir Heerdegen had told him the Finland frontiers were haunted. He could scarcely resist the growing delusions of his brain, nor the frightful impulse to deeds of violence and wrath, which swelled through every nerve and fibre. Suddenly he started up from table; his eyes glared horribly; his voice resounded through the hall like a thunderclap; right and left, all the guests started up in affright. He stood alone in the midst of them, wielding his drawn sword, which played like lightning-gleams round his head. “Holla, holla!” cried he; “where is the devil that would beset us? Holla, huzza! I challenge him to single combat. I shall meet him with giant-strength!” “Heaven have mercy! he is possessed; the devil of whom he speaks has him under his power!” Such were the words that ran whispering along the walls, to which the whole party had fled, that they might be out of his reach. “For the second time,” said the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon, “I would gladly venture with him in combat!” With these words, he tried to rise from his couch; but the exertion only made his wounds bleed afresh; so that he fell back, almost fainting, and, attended by the trembling Blanchefleur, was borne out of the hall. Immediately afterwards, the Spaniard Hernandez, and three noble Frenchmen, stepped forward, in order to seize on the frightful madman. With one blow, however, from his left arm, he swept them all back against the wall, then laughed aloud, and stationed himself in such manner at the portal, that no one could venture out of the apartment. “Throw spears, knives, and daggers at him!” was now cried from all sides; nor were Bertha’s gentle entreaties to spare him yet a while heard amid the confusion. The knives and spears were thrown; they struck him; and though he wore no coat-of-mail, yet they fell to the floor without inflicting the slightest wound. “These devilish fish are spouting water against me,” said the madman, again laughing loudly and horribly. “The devil is indeed within him, and protects him,” was now whispered about; “he is at once his friend and his master!” “No, no!” said Bertha, “that may never be!” Her bright blue eyes gleamed full of love and confidence; and in a voice like divine music, she said,--“Otto, my dearest Otto, give me, in God’s name, your hand, and follow me in peace to your chamber!” She went up to him so cheerfully and lovingly, that every one believed her victory secure; but the tempest which raged within Sir Otto’s brain became only more furious and uncontrollable. “What would’st thou here, horrible pale-visaged witch?” cried he, in his voice of thunder. Therewith he struck the hand so kindly offered him with his sharp sword, and Bertha fell back fainting to her place. Sir Heerdegen supported her; and though his eyes glared in wrath at the madman, yet he dared not for the moment leave