What is it so swells her breast? The cruel thought of Anne-Mie, and her brother’s shame and the great crimes of Sir Halewyn.
And ceaselessly she looks to see if he be not coming, and if she can hear nothing of the sound of his horse.
But she sees nothing, except the air whitened with snow, and white also the long road, and white also the leafless trees.
And she hears nothing, except, in the heavy silence, the still sound of snowflakes falling quietly like feathers.
And she sings.
Then, speaking to Schimmel, she said: “Together, good Schimmel, we are going to a lion. Canst not see him in his cavern, awaiting passers-by, and devouring poor maids?”
And Schimmel, hearing her, whinnied joyously.
“Schimmel,” said Magtelt, “thou art glad, I see, to be going to the revenge of Anne-Mie with the good sword.”
And Schimmel whinnied a second time.
And Magtelt sought Sir Halewyn everywhere as she went through the forest. And she listened well for the sound of his horse, and looked to see if he were nowhere coming.