ights
and dames. 'To no vanquished knight,' you said, 'might the hand of
the Emperor's niece belong'--and behold there Froda, the noble Danish
knight, my conqueror." Hildegardis, with a slight blush, turned hastily
away, hiding her eyes, and as Edwald arose, it seemed as though there
were a tear upon his cheek.

In his clanging armour Froda advanced to the middle of the hall,
exclaiming, "I declare my late victory over Duke Edwald to have been
the chance of fortune, and I challenge the noble knight to meet me again
to-morrow in the lists."

At the same time he threw his iron gauntlet ringing on the pavement.

But Edwald moved not to take it up. On the contrary, a glow of lofty
anger was on his cheeks, and his eyes sparkled with indignation, so
that his friend would hardly have recognised him; and after a silence he
spoke--

"Noble Sir Froda, if I have ever offended you, we are now even. How
durst you, a warrior gloriously wounded by two sword-strokes, challenge
a man unhurt into the lists to-morrow, if you did not despise him?"

"Forgive me, Duke Edwald," answered Froda, somewhat abashed, but with
cheerfulness, "I have spoken too boldly. Not till I am completely cured
do I call you to the field."

Then Edwald took up the gauntlet joyfully. He knelt once more before
Hildegardis, who, turning away her face, gave him her fair hand to kiss,
and walked, with his arm in that of his noble Danish friend, out of the
hall.

CHAPTER VII.

While Froda's wounds were healing Edwald would sometimes wander, when
the shades of evening fell dark and silent around, on the flowery
terraces beneath the windows of Hildegardis, and sing pleasant little
songs; amongst others the following:--

"Heal fast, heal fast, ye hero-wounds;
O knight, be quickly strong;
Beloved strife
For fame and life,
O tarry not too long!"

But that one which the maidens of the castle loved best to learn from
him was this, and it was perhaps the longest song that Edwald had ever
sung in his whole life:--

"Would I on earth were lying,
By noble hero slain;
So that love's gentle sighing
Breathed me to life again!

"Would I an emperor were,
Of wealth and power!
Would I were gathering twigs
In woodland bower!

"Would that in lone seclusion
I lived a hermit's life!
Would, amid wild con