The seat opposite the door had been taken by Biorn of the Fiery Eyes; and the dazzling light of the torches fell upon his features with so red a flare, that he perfectly enacted that fearful surname.
"Father, whom have you here with you ?" cried Sintram; and his suspicions rose to certainty as the miner turned round, and the detestable face of the little Master grinned from under his dark hood.
"Yes, just see, my fair son," said the wild Biorn; "thou hast not been here for a long while,--and so to-night this jolly comrade has paid me a visit, and thy place has been taken.

But throw one of the suits of armour out of the way, and put a seat for thyself instead of it,--and come and drink with us, and be merry." "Yes, do so, Sir Sintram," said the little Master, with a laugh.
"Nothing worse could come of it than that the broken pieces of armour might clatter somewhat strangely together, or at most that the disturbed spirit of him to whom the suit belonged might look over your shoulder; but he would not drink up any of our wine--ghosts have nothing to do with that.

So now fall to!" Biorn joined in the laughter of the hideous stranger with wild mirth; and while Sintram was mustering up his whole strength not to lose his senses at so terrible words, and was fixing a calm, steady look on the little Master's face, the old man cried out, "Why dost thou look at him so?
Does it seem as though thou sawest thyself in a mirror?
Now that you are together, I do not see it so much; but a while ago I thought that you were like enough to each other to be mistaken." "God forbid!" said Sintram, walking up close to the fearful apparition: "I command thee, detestable stranger, to depart from this castle, in right of my authority as my father's heir,--as a consecrated knight and as a spirit!" Biorn seemed as if he wished to oppose himself to this command with all his savage might.

The little Master muttered to himself, "Thou art not by any means the master in this house, pious knight; thou hast never lighted a fire on this hearth." Then Sintram drew the sword which Gabrielle had given him, held the cross of the hilt before the eyes of his evil guest, and said, calmly, but with a powerful voice, "Worship or fly!" And he fled, the frightful stranger,--he fled with such lightning speed, that it could scarcely be seen whether he had sprung through the window or the door.

But in going he overthrew some of the armour, the tapers went out, and it seemed that the pale blue flame which lighted up the whole in a marvellous manner gave a fulfilment to the little Master's former words: and that the spirits of those to whom the armour had belonged were leaning over the table, grinning fearfully.
Both the father and the son were filled with horror; but each chose an opposite way to save himself.