We went into the room where the feast had been held and there drank some wine, though eat I could not.  The cup from which I drank was, as it chanced, the same in which I had pledged Blanche at the bride feast.  Now I pledged her spirit whereon I prayed God’s mercy.

We left the house and in the stable saddled two horses, strong, quiet beasts.  Then by way of the back yard we rode out into the night, none seeing us, for by now all were asleep, and in that weather the streets were empty, even of such as walked them in darkness.

We reached the quay I know not how long afterwards whose mind was full of thoughts that blotted out all else.  How strange had been my life—­that was one of them.  Within a few years I had risen to great wealth, and won the woman I desired.  And now where was the wealth and where was the woman, and what was I?  One flying his native land by night with blood upon his hands, the blood of a King’s favourite that, if he were taken, would bring him to the noose.  Oh! how great was the contrast between the morn and the midnight of that day for me!  “Vanity of vanities.  All is vanity!”

I think that my mind must have wandered, for when my soul was swallowed in this deepest pit of hell, it seemed to me that he whom I had worshipped as a heavenly patron, St. Hubert, appeared striding by my horse with a shining countenance and said to me: 

“Have good courage, Godson, and remember your mother’s words—­a wanderer shall you be, but where’er you go the good bow and the good sword shall keep you safe and I wander with you.  Nor does all love die with one woman’s passing breath.”

This phantasy, as it were, lanced the abscess of my pain and for a while I was easier.  Also something of hope came back to me.  I no longer desired to die but rather to live and in life, not in the tomb, to find forgetfulness.

We reached the quay and placed the horses in a shed that served as stables there, ridding them of their bits and saddles that they might eat of the hay in the racks.  The thought to do this came to me, which showed that my mind was working again since still I could attend to the wants of other creatures.  Then we went to the quayside where was made fast that boat in which I had come ashore some hours gone.  There was a moon which now and again showed between the drifting clouds, and by the light of it I saw that the Blanche lay safe at her anchors not a bowshot away.  The gale had fallen much with the rising of the moon, as it often does, and so it came about that although the boat was over-large for two men to handle rightly, Kari and I, by watching our chance, were able to row it to the ship, on to which we climbed by the ladder.

Here we found a sailor on watch who was amazed to see us, and with his help, made the boat fast by the tow rope to the stern of the ship.

This done I caused the captain to be awakened and told him briefly that as the gale had abated and tide and wind served, I desired to sail at once.  He stared at me, thinking me mad, whom he knew to have been married but that day.