The rays of the sun shining brightly into the room awoke Sintram, and raising himself up, he looked angrily at the chaplain, and said, "So there is a priest in the castle! And yet that accursed dream continues to torment me even in his very presence.Pretty priest he must be!""My child," answered the chaplain in the mildest tone, "I have prayed for thee most fervently, and I shall never cease doing so--but God alone is Almighty.""You speak very boldly to the son of the knight Biorn," cried Sintram."'My child!' If those horrible dreams had not been again haunting me, you would make me laugh heartily.""Young Lord Sintram," said the chaplain, "I am by no means surprised that you do not know me again; for in truth, neither do I know you again." And his eyes filled with tears as he spoke.
The good Rolf looked sorrowfully in the boy's face, saying, "Ah, my dear young master, you are so much better than you would make people believe.Why do you that? Your memory is so good, that you must surely recollect your kind old friend the chaplain, who used formerly to be constantly at the castle, and to bring you so many gifts--bright pictures of saints, and beautiful songs?""I know all that very well," replied Sintram thoughtfully."My sainted mother was alive in those days.""Our gracious lady is still living, God be praised," said the good Rolf.
"But she does not live for us, poor sick creatures that we are!"cried Sintram."And why will you not call her sainted? Surely she knows nothing about my dreams?""Yes, she does know of them," said the chaplain; "and she prays to God for you.But take heed, and restrain that wild, haughty temper of yours.It might, indeed, come to pass that she would know nothing about your dreams, and that would be if your soul were separated from your body; and then the holy angels also would cease to know anything of you."Sintram fell back on his bed as if thunderstruck; and Rolf said, with a gentle sigh, "You should not speak so severely to my poor sick child, reverend sir."The boy sat up, and with tearful eyes he turned caressingly towards the chaplain: "Let him do as he pleases, you good, tender-hearted Rolf; he knows very well what he is about.Would you reprove him if I were slipping down a snow-cleft, and he caught me up roughly by the hair of my head?"The priest looked tenderly at him, and would have spoken his holy thoughts, when Sintram suddenly sprang off the bed and asked after his father.As soon as he heard of the knight's departure, he would not remain another hour in the castle; and put aside the fears of the chaplain and the old esquire, lest a rapid journey should injure his hardly restored health, by saying to them, "Believe me, reverend sir, and dear old Rolf, if I were not subject to these hideous dreams, there would not be a bolder youth in the whole world; and even as it is, I am not so far behind the very best.Besides, till another year has passed, my dreams are at an end."On his somewhat imperious sign Rolf brought out the horses.The boy threw himself boldly into the saddle, and taking a courteous leave of the chaplain, he dashed along the frozen valley that lay between the snow-clad mountains.He had not ridden far, in company with his old attendant, when he heard a strange indistinct sound proceeding from a neighbouring cleft in the rock; it was partly like the clapper of a small mill, but mingled with that were hollow groans and other tones of distress.Thither they turned their horses, and a wonderful sight showed itself to them.
A tall man, deadly pale, in a pilgrim's garb, was striving with violent though unsuccessful efforts, to work his way out of the snow and to climb up the mountain; and thereby a quantity of bones, which were hanging loosely all about his garments, rattled one against the other, and caused the mysterious sound already mentioned.Rolf, much terrified, crossed himself, while the bold Sintram called out to the stranger, "What art thou doing there? Give an account of thy solitary labours.""I live in death," replied that other one with a fearful grin.
"Whose are those bones on thy clothes?"
"They are relics, young sir."
"Art thou a pilgrim?"
