I am terrified whenever you do it.

For, my lord, either I am mad and have forgotten all that is past, or that Being has met you in the wood, whom I look upon as my very powerful twin brother." Sintram laid his hand gently on the pilgrim's mouth, as he answered, "Say nothing more about that matter: I most willingly promise to be silent." Neither he nor old Rolf could understand what appeared to them so awful in the whole matter; but both shuddered.
After a short pause the pilgrim said, "I would rather sing you a song--a soft, comforting song.

Have you not a lute here ?" Rolf fetched one; and the pilgrim, half-raising himself on the couch, sang the following words: "When death is coming near, When thy heart shrinks in fear And thy limbs fail, Then raise thy hands and pray To Him who smooths thy way Through the dark vale.
Seest thou the eastern dawn, Hearst thou in the red morn The angel's song?
Oh, lift thy drooping head, Thou who in gloom and dread Hast lain so long.
Death comes to set thee free; Oh, meet him cheerily As thy true friend, And all thy fears shall cease, And in eternal peace Thy penance end." "Amen," said Sintram and Rolf, folding their hands; and whilst the last chords of the lute still resounded, the chaplain and the castellan came slowly and gently into the room.

"I bring a precious Christmas gift," said the priest.

"After many sad years, hope of reconciliation and peace of conscience are returning to a noble, disturbed mind.