And besides, it could only be for a passing moment that any womanly fears found a place in her breast when her lord was near at hand, for well did she know what effectual protection that brave Baron was ever ready to afford to all those who were dear to him, or committed to his charge.
Soon afterwards Rolf passed through the great hall in which Biorn and his guests were seated, conducting their attendants, who had charge of the baggage, to their rooms.

Gabrielle caught sight of her favourite lute, and desired a page to bring it to her, that she might see if the precious instrument had been injured by the sea-voyage.

As she bent over it with earnest attention, and her taper fingers ran up and down the strings, a smile, like the dawn of spring, passed over the dark countenances of Biorn and his son; and both said, with an involuntary sigh, "Ah! if you would but play on that lute, and sing to it! It would be but too beautiful!" The lady looked up at them, well pleased, and smiling her assent, she began this song:-- "Songs and flowers are returning, And radiant skies of May, Earth her choicest gifts is yielding, But one is past away.
The spring that clothes with tend'rest green Each grove and sunny plain, Shines not for my forsaken heart, Brings not my joys again.
Warble not so, thou nightingale, Upon thy blooming spray, Thy sweetness now will burst my heart, I cannot bear thy lay.
For flowers and birds are come again, And breezes mild of May, But treasured hopes and golden hours Are lost to me for aye!" The two Norwegians sat plunged in melancholy thought; but especially Sintram's eyes began to brighten with a milder expression, his cheeks glowed, every feature softened, till those who looked at him could have fancied they saw a glorified spirit.

The good Rolf, who had stood listening to the song, rejoiced thereat from his heart, and devoutly raised his hands in pious gratitude to heaven.

But Gabrielle's astonishment suffered her not to take her eyes from Sintram.