e Egyptian
princess, "she is flying by my side in the swan's plumage! I bring
with me the flower of my heart; and thus the riddle has been read.
Homeward! homeward!"

But Helga declared she could not quit the Danish land before she had
once more seen her foster-mother, the affectionate Viking woman. Every
beautiful recollection, every kind word, every tear that her
foster-mother had wept for her, rose up in her memory, and in that
moment she almost felt as if she loved the Viking woman best of all.

"Yes, we must go to the Viking's castle," said stork-papa; "mother and
the youngsters are waiting for us there. How they will turn up their
eyes and flap their wings! Yes, you see mother doesn't speak
much--she's short and dry, but she means all the better. I'll begin
clapping at once, that they may know we're coming." And stork-papa
clapped in first-rate style, and they all flew away towards the
Viking's castle.

In the castle every one was sunk in deep sleep. The Viking's wife had
not retired to rest until it was late. She was anxious about Helga,
who had vanished with a Christian priest three days before: she knew
Helga must have assisted him in his flight, for it was the girl's
horse that had been missed from the stables; but how all this had been
effected was a mystery to her. The Viking woman had heard of the
miracles told of the Christian priest, and which were said to be
wrought by him and by those who believed in his words and followed
him. Her passing thoughts formed themselves into a dream, and it
seemed to her that she was still lying awake on her couch, and that
deep darkness reigned without. The storm drew near: she heard the sea
roaring and rolling to the east and to the west, like the waves of the
North Sea and the Cattegat. The immense snake which was believed to
surround the span of the earth in the depths of the ocean was
trembling in convulsions; she dreamed that the night of the fall of
the gods had come--Ragnarok, as the heathen called the last day, when
everything was to pass away, even the great gods themselves. The
war-trumpet sounded, and the gods rode over the rainbow, clad in
steel, to fight the last battle. The winged Valkyrs rode before them,
and the dead warriors closed the train. The whole firmament was ablaze
with northern lights, and yet the darkness seemed to predominate. It
was a terrible hour.

And close by the terrified Viking woman Helga seemed to be crouching
on the floor in the