he knight rose from his bier and bore her away to marriage and
pleasure in Copenhagen. And all the nuns of the cloister sang: "Christ
grant that such an angel were to come, and take both me and thee!"

The old dame will also sing for thee of the beautiful Ogda and Oluf
Tyste; and at once the cloister is revived in its splendour, the bells
ring, stone houses arise--they even rise from the waters of the
Vettern: the little town becomes churches and towers. The streets are
crowded with great, with sober, well-dressed persons. Down the stairs
of the town hall descends with a sword by his side and in fur-lined
cloak, the most wealthy citizen of Vadstene, the merchant Michael. By
his side is his young, beautiful daughter Agda, richly-dressed and
happy; youth in beauty, youth in mind. All eyes are turned on the rich
man--and yet forget him for her, the beautiful. Life's best blessings
await her; her thoughts soar upwards, her mind aspires; her future is
happiness! These were the thoughts of the many--and amongst the many
there was one who saw her as Romeo saw Juliet, as Adam saw Eve in the
garden of Paradise. That one was Oluf, the handsomest young man, but
poor as Agda was rich. And he must conceal his love; but as only he
lived in it, only he knew of it; so he became mute and still, and
after months had passed away, the town's folk called him Oluf Tyste
(Oluf the silent).

Nights and days he combated his love; nights and days he suffered
inexpressible torment; but at last--one dew-drop or one sunbeam alone
is necessary for the ripe rose to open its leaves--he must tell it to
Agda. And she listened to his words, was terrified, and sprang away;
but the thought remained with him, and the heart went after the
thought and stayed there; she returned his love strongly and truly,
but in modesty and honour; and therefore poor Oluf came to the rich
merchant and sought his daughter's hand. But Michael shut the bolts of
his door and his heart too. He would neither listen to tears nor
supplications, but only to his own will; and as little Agda also kept
firm to her will, her father placed her in Vadstene cloister. And Oluf
was obliged to submit, as it is recorded in the old song, that they
cast

"----den svarta Muld
Alt oefver skoen Agdas arm."[B]

[Footnote B: The black mould over the beautiful Agda's arm.]

She was dead to him and the world. But one night, in tempestuous
weather, whilst the rain streamed down, Oluf Tyste