"There is writing material on this table—you may sit down."
Loysik took a seat at the table and proceeded to write serenely. Nevertheless such was his joy at having carried the difficult matter to so successful an issue that his hand betrayed a slight tremor. Brunhild followed him attentive and somber:
"You tremble—you must be afraid, old man!"
"The gratification of having warded off so many evils from the heads of my brothers affects me and causes my hand to tremble. Here is the letter—read it."
Brunhild read, and said as she rolled up the parchment:
"These words of farewell are simple, they are dignified and touching. I understand better and better the powerful influence that you exercise over those people—they are the arms, you the head. Within shortly they will be a headless and, therefore, lifeless body. After the war is over I shall find it easier to reduce them to obedience. Have you anything to ask of me?"
"Nothing—except that you hasten my execution."
"I shall be magnanimous; your unshakable firmness pleases me; I shall spare you the torture and I shall leave to you the choice of death. You may choose between poison, iron, fire or water."
"Have my throat cut."
"It shall be as you wish, monk. Have you any other favor to ask?"