"... the ring you ask for. Patience. When the young man had a secret meeting with his beloved for the last time, just before his departure, she gave him a ring, whose earlier history I do not know, but which was probably made by a Finnish sorcerer, and had all the qualities of a talisman. She conjured her lover to always wear this ring on his finger, in war and danger, as he would thus become invulnerable. Twice this warning was forgotten, once at Dirschau..."
"Great God!"
"... the second time at Lützen."
Bertel's emotions were of such a violent nature that all the blood left his cheeks, and he sat pale as a marble statue.
"Young man, you now know part of what you ought to know, but you do not know all. We have spoken of your sister. We will now speak of yourself. It was his Majesty's intention to offer you a nobleman's coat of arms, and which you with your good sword have so well deserved. But old Aron Bertila, actuated by his hatred for the nobility had asked as a favour that the king would give you an opportunity to gain any other distinction than that one. The king could not refuse this request from a father, and therefore you are still a commoner by name. But I, who am not bound by any promise to your father, will offer you, young man, that which has hitherto been denied you: a knight's spur and coat of arms."
"Your highness ... this favour makes me wonder and mute; how have I deserved it?"
Duke Bernhard smiled with a strange expression.
"How, my friend? you have only half understood me."
Bertel remained silent.
"Well, with or without your knowledge and will, my friend, I already regard you as a nobleman. We will speak more about it another time. Your ring ... Ah! I have forgotten it. Do you remember what it was like?"