"Never mind, as far as I am concerned," cried Liuthari, springing up. "I cannot sleep; or I can sleep in the garden, on the soft turf, my head resting on my shield. Come with me, old man."
"No, I should rather sleep here, exactly here," replied he, slily smiling to himself. "But my wolf's skin is sufficient, friendly hostess. Thou hast shut the back-door, which, as thou saidst, led from the garden into thy sleeping-room?"
"Yes; Philemon will not return from the town before morning."
"Certainly not earlier. The gates will be shut at night-fall. I shall lie here quite comfortably, seest thou, here on the threshold, before the curtain which closes thy room. Sleep well and be quite at rest," cried he to her through the curtain, as she was putting away the provisions. "Not even a little mouse could reach thee without waking me. Seest thou, I fill the whole width of the entrance, thus! Now the wine-pitcher near me. Hurrah! it is again quite full! And very excellent the old wine tastes. Thy husband is a connoisseur therein. I shall drink it all. I shall not sleep. Oh no!"
"Rest well, ye guests," said she, and disappeared.
Liuthari threw a peculiar, scornful look on the old soldier cowering in the doorway, and on the immense pitcher of wine at his side. Then he sprang laughing down the steps into the garden.
"What?" said he to himself, half-pleased and half-defiant, "the growling bear thinks to keep me back if I am determined to step across that threshold? He keep guard! Before he has drunk half the heavy wine he will snore like Thor in the hall of the giants. I might, perhaps, have given it up; but now that he presumes to coerce me--well! what I will do when I stand before the glorious sleeper--I know not yet; but to her couch I will go, in spite of his upbraidings."
The ardent emotion of the youth relieved itself in his defiant anger against his old friend, who looked after him with blinking eyes.
When the quick steps sounded in the far distance, he called gently:
"Young woman!"