“Am I weary of life?  Well, Augusta, on the whole I think I am.  It seems to me that death and after it may interest us more.  For the rest, you asked me a question, and, after the fashion of my people, I answered it as truthfully as I could.”

“By my head, you have said it again,” she exclaimed.  “Have you not heard, most innocent Northman, that there are truths which should not be mentioned and much less repeated?”

“I have heard many things in Byzantium, Augusta, but I pay no attention to any of them—­or, indeed, to little except my duty.”

“Now that this, this—­what’s the girl’s name?”

“Iduna the Fair,” I said.

“——­this Iduna has thrown you over, at which I am sure I do not wonder, what mistresses have you in Byzantium, Olaf the Dane?”

“None at all,” I answered.  “Women are pleasant, but one may buy sweets too dear, and all that ever I saw put together were not worth my brother Steinar, who lost his life through one of them.”

“Tell me, Captain Olaf, are you a secret member of this new society of hermits of which they talk so much, who, if they see a woman, must hold their faces in the sand for five minutes afterwards?”

“I never heard of them, Augusta.”

“Are you a Christian?”

“No; I am considering that religion—­or rather its followers.”

“Are you a pagan, then?”

“No.  I fought a duel with the god Odin, and cut his head off with this sword, and that is why I left the North, where they worship Odin.”

“Then what are you?” she said, stamping her foot in exasperation.

“I am the captain of your Imperial Majesty’s private guard, a little of a philosopher, and a fair poet in my own language, not in Greek.  Also, I can play the harp.”

“You say ‘not in Greek,’ for fear lest I should ask you to write verses to me, which, indeed, I shall never do, Olaf.  A soldier, a poet, a philosopher, a harpist, one who has renounced women!  Now, why have you renounced women, which is unnatural in a man who is not a monk?  It must be because you still love this Iduna, and hope to get her some day.”

I shook my head and answered,

“I might have done that long ago, Augusta.”

“Then it must be because there is some other woman whom you wish to gain.  Why do you always wear that strange necklace?” she added sharply.  “Did it belong to this savage girl Iduna, as, from the look of it, it might well have done?”

“Not so, Augusta.  She took it for a while, and it brought sorrow on her, as it will do on all women save one who may or may not live to-day.”

“Give it me.  I have taken a fancy to it; it is unusual.  Oh! fear not, you shall receive its value.”

“If you wish the necklace, Augusta, you must take the head as well; and my counsel to you is that you do neither, since they will bring you no good luck.”

“In truth, Captain Olaf, you anger me with your riddles.  What do you mean about this necklace?”