he Runes enchanted
thee?"

"Why, yes; this may indeed have been engraved to direct me to a
blessing, protecting enchantment."

The old man hastily seized the king's son by the shoulder and wished to
draw him away.

"Then let us retire," whispered he anxiously. "I would rather force my
way through two lines of Romans than through a magic spell. See,
already thou seemest spell-bound before the entrance. What is the
meaning of the Runes?"

"How can I explain it to thee? Now, something like this: 'The
wishing-god and Saelde herself live here. May malicious beings never
approach!' This Lady Saelde who lives here, I will see," said Liuthari
with decision; and, with the help of shield and knee, he pushed the
middle slabs inwards, so that the whole erection of stone fell with a
loud crash into the garden.

The young man stepped quickly across the threshold.

"This is no spell that scares away; it invites and entices in. Here
dwells happiness. The god of wishes himself has led me here. And _we
dare_ to approach--for we certainly are not malicious creatures."

"Who knows whether the master of the house may not think us so?" said
the old man thoughtfully, shouldering his spear, and following his
young friend, who impetuously, as if driven by a god, stepped towards
the inner door of the house, behind which--it was only closed by a dark
yellow curtain which fluttered in the wind--a faint glimmer of red
light seemed to beckon one in. Yet, in spite of all his haste, Liuthari
noticed a rose-bush, which, loosened from its support, lay helpless on
the sanded path. He carefully put it back in its place, remarking, "it
would be a pity if it were trodden down."

CHAPTER XVII.

Liuthari sprang up the four steps in one bound and pushed back the
curtain. But farther went he not: he stood as if spell-bound, as if
rooted to the ground at the sight which presented itself to him.

He indeed drew back a step as if alarmed; in his astonishment, his
spear struck the ground and threatened to escape from his right hand.
For towards the king's son, with a noble step, as an alabaster Hebe
might have stepped down from her marble pedestal, advanced Felicitas.

She carried her slumbering child tenderly on the left arm, pressing it
to her bosom; her wondrously beautiful face was yet paler in the
agitation of the moment; in the right hand she carried a flat silver
vessel, filled with red wine.

"I bid you w