Herr Arne sat still, stroking his wife's hand. As long as he kept silence no other dared utter a word. But they were all assured that their old mistress had heard a thing that was terrifying and boded ill. All felt the blood curdling in their veins. No one at the table raised a bit of food to his mouth, except old Herr Arne himself. They were thinking of the old mistress, how it was she who for so many years had had charge of the household. She had always stayed at home and watched with wise and tender care over children and servants, goods and cattle, so that all had prospered. Now she was worn out and stricken in years, but still it was likely that she and none other should feel a danger that threatened the house. The old lady grew more and more terrified. She clasped her hands in her helplessness and began to weep so sorely that the big tears ran down her shrunken cheeks. "Is it nothing to you, Arne Arneson, that I am so sore afraid?" she complained. Herr Arne bent his head to her and said: "I know not what it is that affrights you." "I am in fear of the long knives they are whetting at Branehog," she said. "How can you hear them whetting knives at Branehog?" said Herr Arne, smiling. "The place lies two miles from here. Take up your spoon again and let us finish our supper." The old woman made an effort to overcome her terror. She took up her spoon and dipped it in the milk bowl, but in doing it her hand shook so that all could hear the spoon rattle against the edge. She put it down again at once. "How can I eat?" she said. "Do I not hear the whining of the whetstone, do I not hear it grating?" At this Herr Arne thrust the milk bowl away from him and clasped his hands. All the others did the same, and the curate began to say grace. When this was ended, Herr Arne looked down at those who sat along the table, and when he saw that they were pale and frightened, he was angry. He began to speak to them of the days when he had lately come to Bohuslen to preach the Lutheran doctrine. Then he and his servants were forced to fly from the Papists like wild beasts before the hunter. "Have we not seen our enemies lie in wait for us as we were on our way to the house of God? Have we not been driven out of the parsonage, and have we not been compelled to take to the woods like outlaws? Does it beseem us to play the coward and give ourselves up for lost on account of an evil omen?" As Herr Arne said this he looked like a valiant champion, and the others took heart anew on hearing him. "Ay, it is true," they thought. "God has protected Herr Arne through the greatest perils. He holds His hand over him. He will not let His servant perish." III