"I only half distrust them, sir king," said Rané, quickly; "and it is still possible I may be mistaken. But so long as I am with you, you are safe. When the least danger threatens, I shall warn you. If I had intended to betray you, sire, I should have taken care not to inform you of what I had heard and seen at Möllerup."
"But thou, too, didst lay thy hand upon the book, Rané--thou, too, didst swear thy king's downfall; what thou didst add to thine oath, no one heard."
"I were but a poor spy for you, sir king, did your enemies not believe me worthy of credit. But think no more of these things. Here you are safe. I hoped to have earned thanks from you to-night for a pleasant surprise, instead of which I am paid with doubts and scruples, whilst you squander here the precious moments. The pretty Aasé sits within, and wearies. Perhaps she is already asleep, and sweetly dreams of you."
"Talk not of her dreams, Rané, for they are frightful: she nearly drove me mad with them at Hegness. Beautiful she is, it is true, but as cunning as a she-devil. It is said that she has really power to foretell the future, and I almost believe it. If it be so, there are one or two things worth knowing from her. Heard you what the peasant said about the three suns?"
"Mere superstition and nonsense, sir king. In truth, I did not half comprehend him. But what he said about elfin-moss I could understand. From his description, it was neither more nor less than our little Aasé. She is cunning enough, perhaps, to avail herself of the credulity of the peasants, to render herself of importance, and drive a sly trade in the hidden arts. So, sir king, if you too are superstitious, and wish to have your fate unriddled, you have here an opportunity of gratifying your curiosity: you are but a few paces from the elf-woman; and, from such a pretty little mouth, you can hear no unpleasant prediction. In any case this will be a sufficient excuse for your unexpected visit, and give more zest to the adventure."
"So be it, then. I will visit her, Rané; but take care that no one surprises us, and be at hand when I call."
"You are perfectly safe, sir king."
The tall huntsman then approached the door of the little forest-house, cautiously and irresolutely. He first looked through the horn-pane, but could only distinguish the light of the lamp and an ill-defined female form, reclining, apparently, on a bench. He stood by the door and raised his hand, but let it fall again. At length he summoned resolution to strike the door nine times, gently, with the hilt of his sword. He heard a light, slow footstep in the room. The bar inside was withdrawn, and all was again still. He lingered a moment, as if undecided; and then half opened the door gently, and peeped in. The lamp burned dimly beneath the rafters, and on the bench by the table lay the beautiful little Aasé, apparently asleep. He now wholly opened the door, and softly entered. Having closed and bolted it after him, he approached the sleeping girl and gazed at her with admiration in his blinking eyes. Never, he thought, had he seen a more beautiful woman. Her little cap lay on the table, by the side of a breviary written in Gothic characters and in the Frisian dialect. The jet black locks of the maiden were released from their bands, and fell freely down and over her virgin neck and shoulders. The king, not to frighten her with his long sword, hung it on a small wooden hook on the wall.
"Aasé--little Aasé--wake up!" he whispered. "Thou must grant me a kindly welcome to-night."
The sleeping girl leisurely arose; but her eyes were closed.