The village lay behind him and the road began to climb. There, on the right, stood “The Jolly Hangman.” Now he knows his way and ‘tis no longer far from home. From out of the ditch comes something creeping, a black shape that runs across the plain, chattering like a magpie: Mad Wanne, with her thin legs and her cloak wide open. She ran as fast as she could run and vanished behind the inn.
He had started; he became so frightened, so uneasy, that he hastened his steps and longed to be at home.
There was still a light in “The Jolly Hangman” and a noise of drunken men. He passed, but then turned back again ... to sing his last song, according to old custom. They opened the door and asked him in. He saw Grendel sitting there and tried to get away. Then the three of them rushed out and called after him. When they saw that he went on, they broke into a run:
“Stop, you brute!... Here, you with your star!... Oh, you damned singer of songs!” they howled and ran and caught him and threw him down.
Grendel dug his knee into his chest and held his arms stretched wide against the ground. Wulf and Dras gripped whole handfuls of snow and crammed it into his mouth and went on until all his face was thickly covered and he lay powerless. Then they planted his star beside him in the snow and began to turn and sing to the echo:
A, a, a—glory be to Him on high to-day!
E, e, e—upon earth peace there shall be!
I, i, i—come and see with your own eye!
O, o, o—His little bed of straw below!
Like a flash, Mad Wanne shot past, yelling and shrieking. Wulf flung his stick against her legs. She waved her arms under her cloak and vanished in the dark.
The three men sat down by the ditch and laughed full-throated. Then they started for the village. Long it rang:
Three Kings came out of the East;
‘Twas to comfort Mary ...
Great white flakes fell from the starry sky, wriggled and swarmed, one on top of the other.