GANDALF. Yes, certainly!
BLANKA. You see, three years ago—
[Seats herself.]
BLANKA. Come, seat yourself!
GANDALF. [Steps back a pace.] No, sit you down, I'll stand.
BLANKA. Three years ago there came, God knows from whence, A warlike band of robbers to the isle; They plundered madly as they went about, And murdered everything they found alive. A few escaped as best they could by flight And sought protection in my father's castle, Which stood upon the cliff right near the sea.
GANDALF. Your father's, did you say?
BLANKA. My father's, yes.— It was a cloudy evening when they burst Upon the castle gate, tore through the wall, Rushed in the court, and murdered right and left. I fled into the darkness terrified, And sought a place of refuge in the forest. I saw our home go whirling up in flames, I heard the clang of shields, the cries of death.— Then everything grew still; for all were dead.— The savage band proceeded to the shore And sailed away.—I sat upon the cliff The morning after, near the smouldering ruins. I was the only one whom they had spared.
GANDALF. But you just told me that your father lives.
BLANKA. My foster-father; wait, and you shall hear! I sat upon the cliff oppressed and sad, And listened to the awful stillness round; There issued forth a faint and feeble cry, As from beneath the rocky cleft beneath my feet; I listened full of fear, then went below, And found a stranger, pale with loss of blood. I ventured nearer, frightened as I was, Bound up his wounds and tended him,—