"What cannot Friendship do guided by sweet Love?"
The lord and the squire walked in the darkness for nearly an hour; then they saw a great blaze, at which they were astonished. It was one of those meteors with which we know the dwarfs illuminate their kingdom.
By the light of this subterranean brightness they saw they were at the base of an ancient castle.
"Here," said George, "is the castle which we must seize."
"Certainly," answered Freeheart, "but allow me to drink a few drops of this wine which I brought with me as a weapon, for a good wine makes a good man, and a good man makes a good spear, and a good spear makes a bad foe."
George, not seeing a living soul, roughly struck with the hilt of his sword the door of the castle. A small quavering voice made him lift his head, and he saw at one of the windows a very small old man with a long beard who asked him:
"Who are you?"
"George of the White Moor."
"And what do you want?"
"I want to take back Bee of the Clarides, whom you unjustly detain in your mole-hill, ugly moles that you are!"