A long silence.
‘She is a grand woman. I never saw such a one, and I have seen many. There was a prophetess once, lived in an island in the Weser-stream—and when a man saw her, even before she spoke a word, one longed to crawl to her feet on all fours, and say, “There, tread on me; I am not fit for you to wipe your feet upon.” And many a warrior did it.... Perhaps I may have done it myself, before now .... And this one is strangely like her. She would make a prince’s wife, now.’
Philammon started. What new feeling was it, which made him indignant at the notion?
‘Beauty? What’s body without soul? What’s beauty without wisdom? What’s beauty without chastity? Best! fool! wallowing in the mire which every hog has fouled!’
‘Like a jewel of gold in a swine’s snout, so is a fair woman who is without discretion.’
‘Who said that?’
‘Solomon, the king of Israel.’
‘I never heard of him. But he was a right Sagaman, whoever said it. And she is a pure maiden, that other one?’
‘Spotless as the’—blessed Virgin, Philammon was going to say—but checked himself. There were sad recollections about the words.
Wulf sat silent for a few minutes, while Philammon’s thoughts reverted at once to the new purpose for which alone life seemed worth having.... To find his sister! That one thought had in a few hours changed and matured the boy into the man. Hitherto he had been only the leaf before the wind, the puppet of every new impression; but now circumstance, which had been leading him along in such soft fetters for many a month, was become his deadly foe; and all his energy and cunning, all his little knowledge of man and of society, rose up sturdily and shrewdly to fight in this new cause. Wulf was now no longer a phenomenon to be wondered at, but an instrument to be used. The broken hints which he had just given of discontent with Pelagia’s presence inspired the boy with sudden hope, and cautiously he began to hint at the existence of persons who would be glad to remove her. Wulf caught at the notion, and replied to it with searching questions, till Philammon, finding plain speaking the better part of cunning, told him openly the whole events of the morning, and the mystery which Arsenius had half revealed, and then shuddered with mingled joy and horror, as Wulf, after ruminating over the matter for a weary five minutes, made answer—