High above, and at a great distance, the castle of Drontheim, as if to take leave, appeared again through an opening in the rocks.

The knight then looked keenly at his companion, and he almost felt as if Weigand the Slender were riding beside him.
"In God's name," cried he, "art thou not the shade of that departed knight who suffered and died for Verena ?" "I have not suffered, I have not died; but ye suffer, and ye die, poor mortals!" murmured the stranger.

"I am not Weigand.

I am that other, who was so like him, and whom thou hast also met before now in the wood." Sintram strove to free himself from the terror which came over him at these words.

He looked at his horse; it appeared to him entirely altered.