"Yegof, I am sorry, but I must leave you; I have so many things to see to—"
The fool bent an angry look on him.
"Dost refuse me thy daughter?" he cried, raising his finger solemnly.
"We will talk of it hereafter."
"Thou refusest!"
"Your cries are arousing my men, Yegof."
"Thou hast refused, and for the third time. Beware! Beware!"
Hullin, despairing of calming him, strode away, but the fool's voice followed:
"Woe to thee, Huldrix! Thy latest hour is nigh. Soon will the wolves banquet upon thy flesh! The storm of my wrath is unchained, and for thee and thine there is no longer grace, pity, nor mercy! Thou hast spoken thy doom!"
And throwing the ragged end of his cloak over his shoulder, the poor wretch hurried toward the peak of Donon.