Countenance by the fire made a dismissive gesture and praying and then rose with angry speed into the midst of the flames.

-Yes, one last time, I’ll show you what I can, you Satan in medieval garb, he replied, and stuck his hands into the burning pile. He threw out the fire around him, and it dripped from his fingers without burning them. The broad and uncertain steps suggested, that he began to fall in dizziness, and a white smoke enveloped him eventually too.

It rattled in the rider’s iron suit.

-I want to know about the future, about my dear daughter, Ingeborg, whom I have promised to Erik Menved, the young.

The smoke was now standing straight up on high like a pine, and from the top singing a tender and whiny voice: