So they entered the castle, and proceeded up long-winding staircases, through echoing passages, and chambers filled with strange furniture, such as they had never seen before. In one of these rooms, as they were passing through, Sir Arinbiorn touched with his iron glove the arm of his friend, and, pointing to a frame-work on the wall that was half concealed by a curtain, said, “That, if I mistake not, must be the magic mirror!” “Noble Lady,” said Sir Otto to his conductress, “your kind reception emboldens me to make one request. Would it be permitted me to lift up that curtain, that I may discover what highly-honoured portrait is placed within that golden frame-work?” “If it so please you, Sir Knight of Trautwangen,” answered the lady, “that may indeed be done. But this much I must tell you before-hand, there is no portrait behind that curtain, but a mirror in whose glassy depths I may well say that the whole happiness of my life has been wrecked and lost; thus, too, I have afterwards lost all hope that my fortunes might ever be retrieved. Therefore I have hung this curtain over the mirror; and it is withdrawn only at certain seasons of the year, when its enchantments may no longer be concealed, and when, for the most part, I myself am absent. If, however, you wish to behold its wonders, you have but to give me the signal.” With these words she had stepped up to the dark-red curtain, and grasped its golden cord, waiting, as it seemed, for Sir Otto’s determination. At length, “God forbid,” said the knight, “that I should desire aught that is contrary to your will and pleasure, unless,” added he, turning to Sir Arinbiorn, “I were well assured that the whole happiness and welfare of my noble friend and brother in arms depended on the discovery; but, to say the truth, I do not believe that it is from this mirror that he can derive his good fortune.” The sea-monarch shook his head mournfully, assenting to what Sir Otto had said, and then bowed courteously to the lady, who now retired from the mirror, and led her guests onward into another chamber. Here it seemed as if Sir Arinbiorn, contrary to his usual manner, had become humble, submissive, and even afraid to speak. Sir Otto, on the other hand, was gay and unconcerned, expressing all his thoughts as if with filial confidence before their solemn conductress, who also spoke with him kindly and cheerfully. They had now taken their places at a round table, that stood in a small room faintly illuminated. “Oh Heaven!” cried Sir Otto, “since we came hither, how have my long-lost tranquillity and lightness of heart been restored! only one thought still comes at intervals to perplex me. Is that wanderer whom you name Ottur a man indeed, or is he not rather a horrid shadow of myself, an abominable spectre, who has yet such power over me, that he can steal even my own features, and involve me in such indissoluble snares of sorcery or witchcraft, that I shall never more be secure against his delusions?”