As the palmer slept, of a sudden a weasel, small and white, leapt from out of his mouth, and ran to a neighboring hill-side, where it entered a small hole; after a time the creature returned, and appeared to enter into the mouth of the sleeping man. At that moment the palmer awoke.
“Friend,” said he to Tyrius, “I have dreamed a strange dream. Methought a weasel, small, and white as snow, ran from out my mouth to a hole in yonder hill, and thence returning, re-entered my open mouth.”
“Father,” replied Tyrius, “it was no dream; so did it appear to me also, as I sat and watched you. What the weasel did in yonder hill I cannot conjecture.”
“Come, let us arise and look, peradventure we may find some good treasure.”
“Even as I thought,” continued the palmer, when they entered the hole in the hill-side, that led to a large cave; “see, a dragon dead, and filled with gold; the treasure he was thus guarding is our own; ay, too, a sword. What do we read on its bright blade? ‘By me shall Guido overcome the enemies of Tyrius.’”
“Alas, Guido,” said Tyrius, “where art thou, O my friend?”
“Come,” said the palmer, “we will divide the treasures; to you the piles of gold and jewels; to me this sword.”
“To thee the sword of Guido!” exclaimed Tyrius; “nay.”
“To me the sword of Guido,” said the pilgrim, interrupting the knight in his words, and gradually raising the cowl of his dress from off his face. “Yes, to me, Tyrius.”
“Guido, my friend, my brother!” cried the knight, as he looked on the pilgrim’s features. “And have we met, my brother? It is enough, O my brother!” and the tears came in the eyes of both.