She was about to lift the latch of the kitchen-door; but the stranger raised his hand, almost menacingly. "Stay! No light. I go immediately," he muttered. "There are no strange guests here, then--no travellers from Nyborg?"
"Not that I am aware of," replied Ingé; "but the castle is large, and, although many royal soldiers be here, there is still room enough for guests who are true to their king and country."
"Good. I shall bear my master this answer; and, if he is satisfied with it, you shall soon see us. Farewell fair maiden. Although you do not seem to wish that I should approach near you, I dare, nevertheless, take my oath that you are as handsome as brave. You need not make an alarm on my account, nor call the garrison together. I come here as a good friend: my master's good friends are also thine." With these words, be hastily departed through the door by which he had entered.
To prevent his re-entrance before there were lights and other persons present, Lady Ingé first proceeded to lock the door after him. Then calling her handmaids, she caused them to light all the wax-lights, which were placed before bright shields, on the whitened walls of the large hall. In the round side apartment, she ordered a table to be spread for the mysterious guests who had been invited; and went, herself, through the kitchen, to the castle-wards, to see that the men-servants were present. She found them all, twelve in number, seated at the supper-table, and returned to the kitchen without betraying her anxiety. As soon as she had given the cooks and pantry-maids the necessary orders, she retraced her steps, with evident composure, to the lighted-up hall, withdrew the bolts from the front door, according to the hospitable usage of the house, and desired two only of her handmaidens to remain with her. They sat down, as usual, to their sewing-table, and drew forth the various articles of feminine handicraft they were busied upon. One of the maidens was a young, lively girl, always full of news, and having much to tell. She looked surprised at the numerous lights, and the sumptuous preparations, and asked, inquisitively, who were the guests expected so late, and with such unusual state.
"I know not," answered Ingé, in an indifferent tone. "But tell us something new, little Elsie," she added, hastily, and seemingly to amuse herself. "Have you heard anything lately concerning your sweetheart? Does he come over to take you away this summer?"
"It will be some time to that yet, lady," replied Elsie, and immediately broke off into her favourite topic. "He cares more about his valiant master, at Möllerup, than about me, or all the girls in the world. Since he has been with the marsk, in the Swedish war, he has become somewhat proud; but I don't blame him for that: he can still say he has helped to pull a king off his throne. You open your eyes, lady; but it is, nevertheless, true and certain. Was not the Swedish king dethroned? and by our valiant Marsk Andersen and his brave people? Mat Jute is the marsk's right hand: he is almost as tall as his master, and a daring fellow, you may trow. Shame fall it! were he not a poor peasant's son, he would one day be a knight. But if he does not soon let me hear from him," she continued, tossing back her head, "I shall be no leaning-stick, indeed. If he no longer cares for little Elsie, I shall bid him good-day, and look out for another. There are as brave and handsome fellows in Zealand, and I am not exactly going to fall sick for a Juttish landsknecht."
"You do not resemble your faithful namesake in the ballad," said Lady Ingé--"she who fretted herself to death for Sir Aagé."
"It must certainly have been a long time since that happened, you well may trow, my high-born lady. At present the world is wiser, and girls are not so simple. Were they to fret themselves to death, now-a-days, on account of young men's inconstancy, there would soon not be a living maiden in the country. Nay, nay," she continued, humming over a song:--
"As, who that trusts the rotten bough,
So, she who trusts a young man's vow.
"As, who would grasp the eel, must fail,
So, she who trusts a young man's tale."