At last the blast of a horn from outside, challenge and counter-challenge, and the wicket to the court-yard is swung open; for this house, being in a part of the city where the walls are somewhat weak, is a little fortress in itself, and is very carefully guarded. The old man’s face brightened at the sound of the new comers, and he went toward the entrance of the house where he was met by two young knights fully armed, and a maiden. ‘Thank God you are come,’ he says; but stops when he sees her face, which is quite pale, almost wild with some sorrow. ‘The saints! Cissela, what is it?’ he says. ‘Father, Eric will tell you.’ Then suddenly a clang, for Eric has thrown on the ground a richly-jewelled sword, sheathed, and sets his foot on it, crunching the pearls on the sheath; then says, flingi
