“My life, my happiness, my crown of victory!” cried Sir Otto, scarce knowing what he said; and, in the inspiration of the moment, he drank out the contents of the goblet which stood nearest him, not till afterwards perceiving that it was the golden cup of King Arinbiorn. Then some one touched him on the shoulder, and turning round, he perceived that it was Gerda, who, with threatening gestures, addressed to him some monitory words, of which he then understood not the import. Like a stream of liquid fire, the drink which he had swallowed now burned within him; at the same time he remarked, how Gerda had taken her place opposite to him in a corner of the hall. There she held the battle-axe of King Arinbiorn in her hands, while, by the motion of her lips, he could perceive that she was busily occupied in prayers or incantations. She made strange gestures too, as if she wrote upon or inscribed magic signs upon its iron head, though all the while her eyes were steadfastly fixed upon the Knight of Trautwangen. At last she came nearer, and placed the battle-axe by the sea-monarch’s chair; then stepped mournfully out of the hall.

Meanwhile the songs of the minstrels and discourse of the guests became always more lively round the banquet-table. All seemed happy and contented with one another; while the heroic ballads and legends, thrown in by the wise harpers and bards, were like flowers and blossoms of that joy which was implanted in every breast.

Meanwhile, Sir Otto’s feelings alone were discordant; and he, that should have been the gayest of the gay, was the only one of the party in whom the music that rose all around him awoke the most fierce and frightful emotions. Every word uttered by the minstrels excited him to wrath. Every shape around him was frightfully transformed; the very hall itself seemed changed; its roof contracted, and descended lower and lower, till he believed himself confined in a dreary chapel-vault. As he looked on Sir Arinbiorn, Sir Heerdegen, the Knight of Montfaucon, even on Bertha and his beloved Gabrielle, the features of all were horribly distorted. At last the vision of the narrow vault faded away, and he thought that he was gasping and swimming for life in the midst of a raging sea; that the waves were peopled by monstrous fishes, with human heads, which opened their vast jaws to swallow him alive. Especially there was among them one far more hideous than the rest, which had on his head a pair of great vulture’s wings, and in his teeth carried a death’s-head, whereon the scars of many sword-strokes were visible. “He has brought it from my father’s chapel!” thought Sir Otto; and then he recollected himself, and became convinced that the only one near him, who wore such vulture’s wings, was the brave King Arinbiorn, who sat with him in friendship and peace at the banquet. Soon after, however, he again thought that the sea-monarch might indeed prove as frightful an enemy as the spectre-fish which threatened him; and he remembered all the strange stories of ghosts and demons, and shadowy phantoms, by which Sir Heerdegen had told him the Finland frontiers were haunted. He could scarcely resist the growing delusions of his brain, nor the frightful impulse to deeds of violence and wrath, which swelled through every nerve and fibre.

Suddenly he started up from table; his eyes glared horribly; his voice resounded through the hall like a thunderclap; right and left, all the guests started up in affright. He stood alone in the midst of them, wielding his drawn sword, which played like lightning-gleams round his head. “Holla, holla!” cried he; “where is the devil that would beset us? Holla, huzza! I challenge him to single combat. I shall meet him with giant-strength!”

“Heaven have mercy! he is possessed; the devil of whom he speaks has him under his power!” Such were the words that ran whispering along the walls, to which the whole party had fled, that they might be out of his reach. “For the second time,” said the brave Chevalier de Montfaucon, “I would gladly venture with him in combat!” With these words, he tried to rise from his couch; but the exertion only made his wounds bleed afresh; so that he fell back, almost fainting, and, attended by the trembling Blanchefleur, was borne out of the hall.

Immediately afterwards, the Spaniard Hernandez, and three noble Frenchmen, stepped forward, in order to seize on the frightful madman. With one blow, however, from his left arm, he swept them all back against the wall, then laughed aloud, and stationed himself in such manner at the portal, that no one could venture out of the apartment. “Throw spears, knives, and daggers at him!” was now cried from all sides; nor were Bertha’s gentle entreaties to spare him yet a while heard amid the confusion. The knives and spears were thrown; they struck him; and though he wore no coat-of-mail, yet they fell to the floor without inflicting the slightest wound. “These devilish fish are spouting water against me,” said the madman, again laughing loudly and horribly. “The devil is indeed within him, and protects him,” was now whispered about; “he is at once his friend and his master!” “No, no!” said Bertha, “that may never be!” Her bright blue eyes gleamed full of love and confidence; and in a voice like divine music, she said,--“Otto, my dearest Otto, give me, in God’s name, your hand, and follow me in peace to your chamber!” She went up to him so cheerfully and lovingly, that every one believed her victory secure; but the tempest which raged within Sir Otto’s brain became only more furious and uncontrollable. “What would’st thou here, horrible pale-visaged witch?” cried he, in his voice of thunder. Therewith he struck the hand so kindly offered him with his sharp sword, and Bertha fell back fainting to her place. Sir Heerdegen supported her; and though his eyes glared in wrath at the madman, yet he dared not for the moment leave his pale wounded sister to wreak the vengeance which he would so gladly have fulfilled.

Then the sea-monarch, Arinbiorn, came forward. “Either shall this diabolical madman,” said he, “compensate for the blood that he has drawn from that beauteous damsel, or the last of mine shall be shed in her cause.” With these words, he placed himself before Sir Otto, and lifted his battle-axe. “Ha! thou art come again?” cried the madman: “Vulture’s wings! Death’s head! wilt thou have another blow from the Knight of Trautwangen? There, Satan, be then on thy guard!” “Thou art thyself the devil of whom thou speak’st,” cried the sea-monarch; and though Sir Otto’s sword moved incessantly over his head, yet the powerful battle-axe descended with resistless force, and the miserable knight fell without a word, and lay motionless on the ground.