Then, behold! from a snow-covered cliff before them, there broke forth a far-gleaming light, that revolved like a fiery wheel; and herein was visible the form of the young golden-locked enchantress, though beautiful, yet awful to look upon, with her dishevelled hair streaming in the wind, a drawn sword in her right hand, and in her left, despite of the wintry season, a verdant branch. “Am I then known at last?” cried she to the knights, who stood gazing up at her with amazement. “Lo! I am Gerda, the despised, the rejected damsel, whose friendship you have heretofore possessed and renounced. But now your lives are in my power; and if you refuse to be reconciled to me, then shall my fiery serpents be sent forth against you, till, amid the rocks of this narrow valley, your wild horses will rush onwards to their own and your destruction. To-morrow’s sunlight will then reveal the horrid sight, how your troops, that were to-day so full of life and hope, afford only a mangled heap, frozen to the earth in the blood that flowed from their own hearts, a sight that none dare look upon; or perchance you would save yourselves by flight; and if such be your wish, I shall not prevent you. Here on the left there is an outlet; but you find no other.” Involuntarily they turned their eyes in that direction, and saw by the gleams of the fire, which continued to play in circles around her, a boundless extent of smooth ice, by which one of the mountain-lakes was now covered. “Will you gallop across then?” said she scornfully. “Truly, when you and your horses together have once become thoroughly mad and reckless, you will prance nobly there for our amusement, till you fall dashed to pieces on the ice, or sink through it into some unlooked-for abyss.” As if resolved to put an end to this discourse, the sea-monarch and Sir Otto both raised their war-horns to their lips, intending to blow the signal for onset, and to fight at all events as long as their senses remained, or they were able to sit on their horses. Then Gerda once more addressed them; “Yet halt,” cried she, “and mark one other choice that I can offer to you. Be triumphant still, retain at once your lives and your honour, but join with me! Be not afraid; you shall not be required to abjure the faith of the Christians, but peace may be made between us, and the people for whom you now contend; and henceforth we may march forth honourably together on victorious campaigns through the wide world. What say you to this?” With these words she looked more than ever beautiful, and scarcely had the young Sir Kolbein heard her to an end ere he threw himself from his horse, and began to climb up the snow-covered cliff on which she stood. “As for thy threats of destruction and vengeance,” cried he, “I heed them not; but thy beauty and thy promises have wound their magic spells round my heart. I will be thy companion, thy champion, and go forth with thee, even to the end of the earth!” The sea-monarch and the